


Two of a kind

by Sharry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned church, Brotherhood, Dark, Drama, Family, Feelings, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Men of Letters Bunker, Post-Season/Series 13, Sam visits AU, Some Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharry/pseuds/Sharry
Summary: Spoiler for season 13Desperate to save his brother Sam decides to travel back into the other Michael's Universe to search for help. However he has no clue what danger he'll meet. Will the cold-blooded stranger kill Sam or help him to save his brother? And can Sam trust him? After all, if he and his brother have learned one thing during the last years, it's nothing comes without a price. But this time Sam's not in for a dearly purchased victory, this time he wants it all!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody,
> 
> this is my take-on what could have happened after the final of season 13.  
> I don't want to spoil anything more to you, so I just hope you'll enjoy it.  
> For the record: this whole story was written before season 14 started, so any similarities are totally by accident^^
> 
> Please note that English isn't my native language, but I'm lucky to have a great Beta ;-)  
> Still, every form of comment, concrit, help or informaition is strongly appreciated.  
> I want to improve my writing skills, so I'm glad if you point out anything you noted (and of course as well if you like the story ^^)
> 
> Greetings  
> Sharry

Prologue

 

“So, who the hell are you?”

Eyes cold enough to belong to a murderer stared him down.

“I doubt you will believe me,” Sam answered, calm.

“Humor me.”

The man in front of him didn’t even bother to lower his shotgun, neither did his companions, who watched warily as the two men talked.

But Sam wasn’t the kind of man who was fazed by a loaded weapon pointing at him. Those lifeless eyes on the other hand were quite unsettling, although he would never admit that.

Slowly, he took a look around, glancing at every single person before regarding the man in front of him again.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  
“Hmpf,” the other man scoffed, “not like I’m the one with the gun, right?”

“So you’ll kill me if you don’t believe me?”

“Probably. But I will definitely kill you if you try to fuck with me,” the leader confirmed, just as calm, now sneering slightly.

So much for that. Sam was a good liar but no matter what he came up with, it would be more likely than the actual truth. He wasn’t sure if this man would see right through him, but Sam was certain he’d shoot him if he did.

Sighing deeply he scratched his head before folding his arms. The people around him all glanced over to their boss, who didn’t seem to mind the movement.

“Okay, you want the truth, as unbelievable as it is?”

The other man rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Didn’t I just say that? You got the choice, start talking or I’ll fill your head with some metal.”

He then threw his weapon over his shoulder and leaned against the table, folding his legs over another, contradicting his threatening words. Still, everybody else kept their guns on the intruder.

“So, who the hell are you?” He repeated.

Sam sighed again lightly, but there was nothing he could do.

“My name’s Sam and I heard that you might be able to help me.”

The man in front of him didn’t even react, his view never leaving the hunter, so Sam continued.

“Actually, I didn’t plan on ending up here, but then I heard about you and that if I have any issues concerning angels I should talk to you.”

“Who said that?” The man was ice-cold but didn’t give any sign if he believed Sam or if he thought that he was a madman. “And where did you plan to end up? How did you come here?”

The roughness of his voice made the hunter shudder. It sounded almost like he was scolding him for giving an incomplete answer. Even his own father hadn’t been able to make him feel like a stupid brat with just a few questions and an icy tone.

“I don’t know his name, but he owns the farm about twenty miles from here.” He pointed to his left. “He was the one who told me about you and where to find you.”

“Liar!” Some guy next to him growled. “Jim doesn’t talk to strangers. This guy must have tortured him. Did you kill him?”

“No, of course not.” He spun around, indignant about the assumption. “Why would I? He found me wandering through the forest and then we talked like normal, civilized people usually do. He just told me where to get help, that’s it.”

“Yeah sure, because normal people take a walk through the woods armed like some crazy...”

“Hey,” the leader interrupted the enraged man, “that’s enough.” His eyes never left Sam and his voice stayed emotionless.

“So why were you in the woods in the first place?”

“Tze,” Sam clicked his tongue in irritation, “like I said, you’re not gonna believe me.” He turned towards the leader again, much more controlled now.

“Well, I’ll be the one to decide on that, but he’s right, you know? It’s unlikely for Jim to talk to strangers as long as they’re breathing, so you must have some hell of a story for him to help you.”

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but this was more difficult than expected, especially with eight guns pointing at him.

“I’m from another universe.”

Nobody reacted, except for the leader, who lifted a single eyebrow. Showing half a smile, Sam continued.

“In my universe we have some bad problems with an archangel from another universe, so I tried to travel into his world to gain some information about him, but instead I ended up here. I don’t know what went wrong, but I know that I have only about twenty hours left before my way back closes for good.”

He didn’t know what reaction to expect, but he could see the men and women surrounding him exchange quick glances.

“An archangel from another universe?” The man in front of him repeated, calm.

“You don’t actually believe him, do you? That’s insane!” A woman to Sam’s right insisted.

But the leader simply looked at Sam, almost a curious shimmer in his otherwise lifeless eyes.

“So you want me to help you kill an archangel from another universe? Well, not sure if you’ve noticed, but we kind of have our hands full with our own winged dickheads, so why would I help you?”

“Because if you help me maybe I can help you as well. You see, I have my own experience with the supernatural.”

“You’re a hunter?”

It surprised him how easily the other one found out and how openly he talked about it, but nobody seemed surprised, maybe the hunters weren’t as subtle in this universe.

“You as well?” He asked as he pulled the collar of his shirt down to show his anti-possession tattoo.

“No, but I’ve met several. This camp here was founded by some, two of them are leading it.”

So he wasn’t the actual leader, yet all the others treated him with respect, or maybe fear?

The other man turned away and put his weapon down on the table behind him.

“Okay, I get it so far. But about your whole ‘lemme scratch your back and you scratch mine’ stuff. You still haven’t given me a single reason why I should help you. I have enough on my plate, I don’t need the BS of another universe.”

“Michael.” That was the only word he had as an answer and it was more than enough.

The other man froze for a second, his jawline grew razor sharp, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes came alive with the fire of pure hatred.

“I’m fighting against Michael, just like you are. I need somebody who knows about archangel possession...”

“Everybody, get out!” The sudden volume startled everybody, including Sam, although the order wasn’t angry, just deadly serious.

To Sam’s surprise, nobody objected, yet it was obvious that none of them understood, and even fewer agreed with that order.

Neither Sam nor the man in front of him moved until the door fell closed behind the last of the people filing out. The look he was giving Sam now was not as calm as before. He was angry, almost furious. He folded his arms and turned towards him.

“How did you find out?” This wasn’t a question, it was a threat.

Confused, Sam took half a step back.

“Like I already said, I met this farmer, Jim or whatever, and he...”

“No!” The other man took another step towards him and although he was shorter than Sam he seemed to loom over him. “How do you know about Michael? Who told you? Who knew?”

Sam wasn’t easy to scare, he had seen a lot in his life, had been through even more, but right now he felt fear growing within him. It seemed he had discovered some dark secret without even intending to.

“Look, nobody told me. All this farmer said was that there’s guy who shows up at the refugee camp every so often who knows more about angels than everybody else in this world and I didn’t really care because I know a lot about angels myself. You see, in my world I’m the true vessel of Lucifer.”

This seemed to surprise the other man.

“You’re Lucifer’s true vessel?”

Sam simply nodded.

“But that doesn’t explain how you know about Michael and me.” His tone was deadly again.

“Well, I figured it out on my own. In my...”

“How?” The other man interrupted him, standing directly in front of him.

“Would you just give me a second to explain?” He wasn’t going to be intimidated by this man.

“It was your name, okay?”

“My name?” Now the other man seemed confused. “How do you even know my name?”

“This Jim told me and I know it from my universe, you see...”

“I don’t understand,” the man in front of him interfered again, “if you’re Lucifer’s true vessel from your world, Michael’s has to be...”

“Exactly, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. My full name is Sam Winchester and my brother is Michael’s true vessel.”

The other man stared at him in utter disbelief.

“And that’s how I knew that you must have been possessed by Michael. Because even though you don’t know me, in another universe you and I are brothers, Dean.”

 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody,
> 
> I hope you have a great time.  
> The next chapter will give us some answers and even more questions.  
> Thanks for your comments and kudos.
> 
> Greetings  
> Sharry

Chapter 1

 

Several hours ago

 

“I don’t approve this idea, Sam. There are other ways. There have to be other ways.”

“We tried every other way, Cass. We have nothing! Michael has vanished and Dean with him.”

He paced down the hallway towards the war room, followed by the angel.

“That’s not true. We still have the hyperbolic pulse generator, which can expel even archangels from their vessel, and we found that picture from the surveillance camera in Italy,”

“Yeah, from two months ago and by the time we got there he was long gone.”

Sam reached the grand table with the world map and turned towards his friend.

“This guy has wings, Cass. He can appear and disappear anywhere he wants in a heartbeat. We can only expel him if we can trap him and Dean molotoved whatever holy oil we had left when Michael was chasing us; Ketch said he needs at least another month to get his hands on some. Jack is no match for Michael, especially in his current state, so even if we or Mom or Bobby or whoever track him down we have no way to catch him. We have no way to save Dean.”

Sam knew that Cass knew all this already, still he watched how his words filled the angel’s eyes with desperation and even more grief. He looked older now than ever before, like his body was aging with rapid speed although the vessels of angels didn’t age.

Cass folded his arms and leaned against the table.

“That may be, but traveling into another universe is not something we should think about lightly.”

“I’m not!” Sam insisted. “But we’ve tried everything we could. The angels are no help – you said so yourself – and they are scared of Michael and don’t know if he’s on their side or not.”

“We do have the blade of an archangel.”

“Great! So if we’re lucky enough to find Michael we just kill him. Him and Dean, right?”

“Sam, that’s not what I meant. How can you even think that I would...”

“I know, Cass. I know what you meant but it’s been months, okay? Months.”

Their discussion was pointless. Both of them agreed that they had to save Dean no matter the cost, even if he would rather die if it meant taking Michael with him, and both of them agreed that they were already taking too long.

There was no being in this world – maybe not even his own mother – Sam trusted as much as Cass if it came to saving Dean.

“We’re on the same page, Cass. We have to do something, anything, and this our very last option.”

“Sam, even if I agreed, and even if you could convince Rowena to come back for the spell. We would still need an archangel’s grace and somehow I doubt that Michael is willing to help us.”

“And who said we need him, my sweet little angel?”

Surprised, both men looked up as the iron front door was slammed open and said witch entered.

Cass rolled his eyes in defeat.

“But even you will need the grace, Rowena, no matter how powerful you are.”

Sam could feel the angel stare at him, obviously annoyed about the appearance of their guest, but he chose to ignore it.

“You’re already here? Where’s Charlie?”

“Oh, my dear Sam, you called and I came as soon as I could, of course,” she purred sarcastically, almost floating down the stairs. “After all, nothing is more important to me than to be at your service, my lord.” She bowed dramatically in front of him.

“Enough of this,” Cass interrupted, “can you help or not?”

The red-haired lady straightened up again and looked at the other man with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Of course I can, why else would I be here? I have everything we need for the spell and we all know that I cannot refuse Sam Winchester if he asks for my help.”

Sam decided to ignore that comment as well.

“So where’s Charlie?” He repeated.

“She’s doing just fine, alright? We were already on our way because she wanted to meet up with your dear Mama and this Bobby Singer of her world. They called her few days ago because of something I do not bother to recall.”

Sam sighed slightly, “Damn it. I was hoping she would come with me. After all, it’s her world.”

“All of this doesn’t matter if we have no grace,” the angel insisted.

“And I told you that I have what we need, Tweety.”

Rowena pulled a long necklace out from under her cloak and showed the angel the dangling glass vial filled with shimmering blue liquid.

“How did you get this?” Castiel tried to grab the amulet but the witch snapped it swiftly out of his reach and danced a few steps away from him.

“Do you think I spent hours guarding Lucifer without taking advantage of it? Come on, boys, I didn’t survive hundreds of years just because of my stunning features.”

She showed a marvelous smile before turning around and walking towards the library.

“So shall we get started? The faster we’re done, the better for all of us.”

Sam followed her but suddenly Cass held him back, a concerned look on his face, worry similar to the one Dean would show. He avoided meeting the angel’s eyes.

“Sam, please, I doubt that this plan will end well.”

“Cass, it’s the only plan we got at the moment. We need to find something we can use against Michael.”

The angel lowered his head, before nodding in surrender.

“Fine, then I will go. I’m more powerful than you are and have more profound knowledge about angels.”

Angered and slightly insulted, Sam turned towards his friend.

“You want me to let you – an angel – travel into a world where angels are the enemies of every single human alive and where they have angel-killing bullets? Alone? Not in a million years.”

Now it seemed like Castiel was growing mad as well.

“I have battled far worse wars before, Sam, long before you even existed. I can deal with some aggressive humans.”

“We don’t want to _deal_ with them; we need information, Cass. I doubt they will tell you anything after you beat them up to make them listen to your questions.”

“So what? You want to go?”

By now they were facing each other, both with folded arms, both with stern faces.

“Exactly! I’m human so it will be easier for them to trust me.”

“Then we’ll go together. That way we’ll be faster and have a better chance to...”

“We can’t both go. What if something happens here? What if something goes wrong and the way back is blocked? If I can’t come back I need to know that you’re here and will do whatever it takes to save Dean.”

“Sam, this is not up for discussion. Either we go together or I go. You will not go alone!”

Sam’s jaw clenched.

“And who are you to decide that?”

“I am the one who’ll have to explain to your mother why she lost her son. I’m the one who’ll have to tell Dean why I couldn’t protect you. Do you think he would let you go alone? What do you think he would do if…”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about what Dean would do right now! I don’t care if he’d rather die and I don’t care what you think! We spent months for nothing so I will do what I have to to get Dean back and if I fail I need you to take care of him!”

“No! Not like this, Sam! It’s too dangerous and Dean will never...”

“It’s exactly what Dean would do if this were about me or about you or about anybody he cares for. So don’t lecture me about...”

“Boys! Boys, will you stop it?”

Neither of them had noticed how loud they’d gotten, but they must have been practically shouting for Rowena to intervene.

The witch was standing beside them, a hand on each shoulder.

“If you wanted to discuss the utility of this plan you should have done that before you called me. Now I’m here, so I suggest that we continue. I’m a busy woman and I want to be as far away from here as possible when you two knuckleheads decide to fight that archangel.”

“How surprising,” Castiel muttered, but in defeat he lifted both arms, exhausted, and nodded slightly.

“Very well.” Rowena spun around with new energy. “I have enough grace for about twenty-four hours, but I would like to save as much as possible, so the faster you get back the better, okay, Samuel?”

Sam nodded, glad that she had interrupted the argument. While Rowena prepared the spell, he hurried to his room to fetch his duffle bag, only hesitating for a heartbeat as he passed his brother’s room.

“That’s why you didn’t tell me earlier, so I had no time to contradict your plan,” the angel mumbled when he came back. “Apparently you have more in common with your brother than I thought.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sam couldn’t fight a smile, the first one in weeks. “I promise I’ll be back in time.”

“You have to be. And not just for Dean, your mother or me, but for all those people we saved; they look up to you, they need you.”

Surprised, he stared at the angel. He hadn’t even thought about that. Sure, he had helped the people from the other universe, had explained their new world to them, helped them to adapt and found that abandoned place, big enough to house all of them. But all this time his mind had been wholly focused on his brother. He hadn’t even noticed himself starting to lead them. He hadn’t noticed any of this being important.

“Mom is with them right now, they’ll be fine.”

“Okay boys, I’m ready,” Rowena interrupted them.

Cass sighed deeply. “I don’t feel good about this Sam, so if anything happens, come back, alright? I prefer you coming back safe and sound without any other lead than dying over there, understood?”

Sam grabbed the angel’s arm in a swift recognition of his concern.

“Don’t worry, Cass. I’ll be back within the given time and I’ll find something to save Dean.”

The angel didn’t reply but gave him a weak smile while the witch behind them chanted some words in an ancient language.

Castiel’s view went past Sam.

“Doesn’t it look different than last time?” He asked and the hunter turned around.

The rift appeared to be a thin line of light, flickering like always, but unlike the last few times Sam had seen it, this one seemed to shine less red and more yellow, a little bit brighter, but maybe it was just an illusion because of the dim light in the library or because they used bottled grace instead of fresh one.

“You’re sure?” Rowena wondered. “It looks as natural to me as a gap between two worlds can.”

“As long as it works, it doesn’t matter.” Sam shouldered his bag and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon and as long as I’m gone, you’re in charge here.”

The angel lifted an eyebrow and this time his dry smile seemed real.

Turning towards the rift Sam looked at Rowena, who smiled at him, and he nodded gratefully before bracing himself. He should be used to this by now, but jumping between worlds was something that he just couldn’t take as a given. With a last breath of home, he ran straight into the rift.

 

The next second he was in a wide forest, an almost familiar forest, after all, he had been here before, right?

Sam searched for the truck they had used to transport all the civilians Bobby had protected and he searched for the remains of the men and women who had sacrificed themselves fighting against Michael in order for them to cross the worlds safely, but he found nothing. He searched for Gabriel’s remains, but all signs of their former fight were gone. There was nothing left, even the ground and trees looked untouched.

After several minutes he came to the conclusion he had to be in a different spot than last time and that he wouldn’t find either the archangel or the archangel’s blade Gabriel had been wielding.

He felt hollow not being able to recover any of their fallen friends, but taking a look at his watch he decided to stop wasting time on fruitless searches and started walking.

He knew why Cass disliked this plan. It was dangerous and Sam didn’t even know if there was anything in this world that could help them, even less if he could find it within the given time, and Cass was right, angels and humans were sworn enemies in this world and although Michael was gone there were still enough angels around to be a problem.

But maybe, just maybe he would find something – anything – that could help him save his brother and even that tiny ray of hope was enough, it had to be, it was all he had left.

This time he wouldn’t let anything stop him, this time he wouldn’t give up, not this damn time!

He was barely talking with Mary, they texted each other every few days, making sure the other one was okay, but neither tried to keep closer contact. Sam could barely stand her presence, knowing that Dean was in danger, was in pain right this very moment, and he felt like she understood.

Wordlessly, they had agreed that Mary took care of Jack, who was still trying to recover from his fight with Lucifer. He had lost almost all of his own power and it didn’t seem like it was coming back, so Mary kept an eye on him and on everybody else from the alternate universe.

It was better this way. At the beginning she had tried to work together with Sam and Cass, but it had been irritating. She had been too rational, too cold-blooded, not like she was talking about her son, who was held captive by one of the most powerful beings to walk their earth, but about some usual hunt. More than once, the angel had taken action to settle their fights and more than once it hadn’t been enough.

Sam didn’t doubt that his mother wanted Dean back as much as he did, but he wasn’t sure if she was ready to go as far as he was, to sacrifice as much as he was, if she was trying to get him back no matter the costs. He hated himself for thinking that way, after all, nothing was supposed to be stronger than the love of a mother, but he couldn’t shake it off and her reserved behavior didn’t seem to prove him wrong.

Maybe it was also for the best that Jack had gone with her. Sam had taken that boy under his wing, thought of him as family and he didn’t regret that decision, but right now he preferred to keep some distance between them. He was too tired of telling Jack over and over again that this wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t to blame for what had happened to Dean. He was too tired of discussing with his family what had happened that day. He was too tired of thinking about ‘maybes’ and ‘what ifs’ that could have changed what had happened. None of it would help Dean.

So instead of drowning in those fruitless conversations, he left it to Mary to take care of Jack, therefore, Sam could focus on rescuing Dean, who in the end would be able to tell Jack himself that it wasn’t on him, that none of this was on him.

Sam was tired, he was always tired.

Sleep had become an absent friend, for every dream was filled with his brother’s face, with his screams, his tears, his pain. It had been months but Sam couldn’t get used to it. Too often he had seen Dean ripped away from him, too often he had lost him, and too often he had let him go.

Sam was tired of this, tired of losing his brother over and over again, tired of being the weaker side in battle, tired of facing invulnerable enemies. He wanted more than to win, more than to beat his opponent, more than a victory for a price.

This time he wanted everything, to save his brother, to kill Michael, to take care of the evil of this world for good and to deal with the angels once and for all. He wanted it to be over, so that he and Dean and Cass and Mary and Jack and everybody else were finally able to live in peace.

This was why he couldn’t stop, couldn’t take a break from research, couldn’t take a moment to recharge, couldn’t slow down, because he was afraid that the moment he did, he would miss this one opportunity he was waiting for.

All those thoughts crossed his mind as he marched through the woods, head high, shoulders back.

This time he wouldn’t back down, this time he was in to win.

Suddenly he noted a movement to his right, but as he lifted his weapon he could already feel the cold iron just behind his ear.

“And who are you, son?”

He had been so occupied with his thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings. Beginner’s mistake! Something that wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like him.

“Angel? Monster?” The older man’s voice asked him coolly.

“Human,” he replied, scoffing, and lifted his hands.

“Right, why would one guy all alone take a walk through the woods in the middle of nowhere?”

Sam laughed slightly. “Haven’t you seen my equipment? I’m here to hunt, nothing wrong with that, right?”

Now it was the other man who laughed. “Well, daydreaming like that makes ya an easy target.”

“Like I said, I’m hunting, didn’t expect to be the prey.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Tell me, son. Ya don’t seriously expect me to believe you’re just huntin’ some rabbits. Not with this gun and those clothes. Why are ya here? To take my farm or are ya some kind of spy?”

The iron pushed against his ear. Sam decided that it was best to go with the truth.

“No, of course not. I’m searching for help.”  
“What?” The surprise was easy to hear. “What kinda help?”

“Sorry, but I don’t feel so trustfully while you’re pointing that gun at me,” Sam answered.

The man was about to reply, when suddenly a loud siren filled the air.

“Oh no, not again,” the man behind Sam sighed, more annoyed than actually troubled.  
“The angels are attacking?” Sam asked, alarmed. Did they already know that he was there?

“What? No!” The old man stared at him. “Under which stone have ya been hiding?”

“Uhm, I’m not from here?” Sam tried to explain himself.

“Yeah, no kidding,” the farmer grumbled. “Listen kiddo, the alarm doesn’t mean that they’re attacking. It means they’re cleansing. Ya don’t know that?”

Sam gave the man behind him a questioning look. The stranger sighed again loudly.

“How long have ya been hiding, son? The angels stopped attacking most people years ago. Instead Michael’s army is focusing on killing all kind of demons and monsters. They call it cleansing, spreading some nasty fogs that kill monsters and humans alike. So when ya hear that siren, get lost as fast as ya can.”

Confused, Sam tilted his head. The last thing he knew about the alternate universe was that humans and angels were sworn enemies and the monsters of their world nothing more than troublesome side actors, so why would the angels hunt monsters and even warn the humans about it.

“You know why Michael’s aiming for the monsters?”

The farmer shrugged his shoulders.

“Who knows and honestly I don’t care. But we should really go now, so follow up or you’ll be dead.”

The old man rushed past Sam, not even taking another look at him, the weapon by his side.

“Ya coming or what?” the man yelled as he limped at an unbelievable speed past the last trees.

Sam took a look around, not sure what to do, but as the siren grew louder he decided that following this man was probably a better idea than experience first hand whatever this cleansing was.

Few minutes later Sam found himself sitting on an old sofa in a tiny farmhouse, close to the forest, all walls and even the roof and the ground covered in angel banishing sigils and other warding.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe here.” The farmer sounded much friendlier now. Like he couldn’t trust Sam before he had entered the building.

But somehow Sam doubted his words. Sure, as far as he could judge all the warding and enochian signs seemed functional, but this was still a tiny, old house; angels had easy ways to make it crumble, for example breaking the ground beneath.

“So, tell me what kinda help you’re looking for, son?”

The hunter peeled his eyes from the warding and regarded the farmer in front of him.

“Are you sure we’re safe here?” He asked as he could still here the alarm signal from outside.

“Of course, boy. Believe me, this little place is the safest house within thirty miles.”

“It is?”, Sam doubted.

“You bet. After all I asked a professional to make it angel-proof. Neither that bloody fog nor those winged assholes can come in. They don’t even know that this house still exists.”

“What?” Impossible, Sam had never heard about warding like this. “How?”

“Oh, I don’t know the details, but before I tell you what I know...” The man lifted his gun again and aimed it directly at Sam. “Why don’t ya tell me, who ya are and what ya want?”

So much about hospitality and trust. It wasn’t like this gun scared Sam, but he had many questions and what the old man had just told him had made him curious, so he decided to play along.

“My name’s Sam and I’m looking for help concerning a certain archangel.”

The old man laughed. “Son, that’s what everybody does ever since the apocalypse. I mean, in the beginning many believed that Michael would send his bloodhounds only after those who deserved it, but by now we all know better. I got no clue why those winged dickheads chase monsters right now, but the moment Michael gets what he wants, none of us are safe.”

Something about this seemed off, Michael had been gone for more than three months, but it didn’t seem like the angels lost their leadership; maybe they continued his orders, waiting for his return? Though Sam still felt uncomfortable, like he was missing something big.

“So kiddo, ya got to be a little bit clearer why ya need help with Michael,” the old man insisted, his gun still pointing at Sam. He was aware that the stranger’s friendly manner didn’t mean anything, but it was obvious that he was no friends with the angels, so Sam gave it a shot.

“He took my brother,” he answered deadly serious.

The eyes of the older man lightened up slightly.

“Ya wanna kill him?”

“So much more than just that,” he replied.   
This man didn’t need to know that Dean could still be saved, he didn’t need to know that Sam didn’t only plan to kill Michael.

“I’ve come a long way to find help, because on my own I’m no match against him. So can you help me?”

He wasn’t sure if that man actually knew anything useful, but even if not, asking was better than being shot.

The farmer gave him a calculating look, never losing the grip on his weapon.

Then he sighed and scratched the back of his own head with the barrel of his gun.

“Listen son, since the apocalypse, many, many people have died. Revenge won’t get ya anywhere; your brother probably wouldn’t want ya to end up dead in some useless battle. If ya want to, I can show ya how to survive until it’s all over, but that’s about it.”

Apparently he was less hostile than before.

“When what is over?” Sam asked cold. “How do you think this will end? The angels will search down every single human and kill us all, you said so yourself. You don’t believe that any of us will survive their cleansing. So I’d rather die fighting than hiding.”

The farmer shook his head, giving him half a smile.

“Kinda expected ya’d say that. Well, I can’t help with that, son. I’m too old for fighting. I plan to spend the rest of my life here, at home, no matter how long or little I have left to spend.”

In the far distance the sirens stopped.

“But if you’re serious, I know a guy who might be able to help ya.”

“Really?” The hunter doubted that. Warding to hide completely from angels was useful but he was looking for something else. He wasn’t the prey, trying to hide, he was the hunter in need of a good trap.

“Yeah, ya know, there’s a refugee camp down the old highway and he shows up there every so often. Taught me everything I know about those winged assholes. He’s some madman, but it’s widely known that he’s kinda the last real threat to the angels.”

Interesting. There was still no proof that mentioned madman could actually help Sam, but it was more than nothing.

“And I can find him at this refugee camp?”

“Guess so.” The old man pointed out of a small window with his gun. “If ya follow that old highway to the east for a couple of miles you’ll find the camp. There, all ya need to do is ask for Dean Winchester.”

“What?!” Sam choked on his own breath.

“Yeah, funny name, right? You might have heard about him, and the rumors are true; he’s crazy, but lemme tell ya, if he can’t save us, humanity is doomed.”

It was impossible! Sam and Dean were never born in this universe, that was why the apocalypse had happened here in the first place.

But a sudden doubt filled Sam. The same forest, yet no signs of their previous fight; an old farmer’s house that hadn’t been there before, the slightly different-colored rift, an apparently still present Michael whose angels warned the humans before they started hunting monsters; his brother’s name mentioned although he never existed in this other world, or rather, in _that_ other world.

Sam had that dull feeling that he’d ended up in yet another universe than the one he had planned to travel to.

Or maybe it was all a big trap.

But why? Nobody could have expected that Sam would return and if so, the other angels would have taken him captive the moment he had crossed borders.

He came to a conclusion. Even if it was just a huge mistake, he had to meet this Dean Winchester, no matter the outcome. Determined, he stood up.

“Okay, thank you for your help and for your shelter.”

“Nah, it’s all good. Maybe this world needs some more young men like ya.”

Sam offered the old farmer half a smile and went outside.

“Hey, listen kiddo,” the old man called after him, as he was already walking down the moldered driveway towards the deserted street. “In my barn is an old moped, nothing great, but it still beats running all the way. If ya want ya can have it.”

Surprised Sam turned around.

“You’re sure?”

“Ah yeah, I can’t even drive it. Ain’t mine, but I kept good care of it, maybe its owner will return some day.”

 

Half an hour later Sam was driving on a tiny, groaning, rattling, pink moped. His duffle bag between his legs and his shotgun in his lap, his knees almost pressed against his chest. He had left the pink helmet with the name _Laura_ written in glittering silver letters behind in the barn, decided not to speculate who that Laura had been or why the farmer had her moped, instead he focused on the possibility that he could have ended up in another universe; another other universe.

A universe where he and Dean had been born, but the apocalypse had still happened. So if only Michael was around, that meant he must have killed Lucifer and the Sam of this world alongside. 

The hunter could imagine it that far, the real question was, if Michael had won and was controlling this world, why would Dean fight him? Or more precisely, why was he even _able_ to fight him?

Because that meant that Michael was no longer possessing the Dean of this world and that meant there had to be a reason the archangel had abandoned his one true vessel.

So maybe this Dean Winchester could help him. Maybe this was a lucky break for once.

Or maybe not, if he regarded his vehicle. For sure it was better than running, but he had taken roughly twenty minutes to make it six miles and who knew how long it would take to reach the camp?

And even if he did reach the camp, that didn’t mean he would be able to come back in time without this moped breaking down, and he hadn’t even achieved anything yet.

His sigh was silenced by the load mourning of the half-dead motor. Those thoughts wouldn’t get him anywhere. He had known from the very beginning that this plan was risky without promising anything, doubting his decisions now wouldn’t do him any good.

He kept his eyes on the run-down highway, on his left, the never ending forest of tall, dead trees, on his right, the wilderness of gray grass and brushwood of what looked like it had once been a field many years ago. Somewhere in the far distance he noted several old houses, probably an abandoned village.

After another long hour he finally found the refugee camp, not that it was hidden or anything. A wire fence ran straight across the street, drowning somewhere in the woods and running along the forgotten field for as far as the hunter could see. In the middle of the street the fence was implemented with a tall, double-winged iron gate. Behind the fence he could see the shadows of old and newer buildings, some obviously former family houses, some of them nothing more than iron sheets fused together and everything, including the gate, the fence, the ground in front, everything was covered in enochian signs and other wards.

This refugee camp wasn’t a hideout, it was a stronghold.

Sam noted the guns pointing at him long before he was close enough to be an actual target.

“Who’s there?” A strong voice called out when he finally arrived.

“Someone looking for help to fight angels,” he answered, loud enough to be heard.

He could hear people talking before the cold voice ordered him, “Take a step forward and stand still!”

With a sigh he left the moped and stepped upon the sigil in front of them, shrugging his shoulders to show them clearly that it wasn’t affecting him, but in the next moment water was splashed upon him.

“What the...”

He backed off a few steps, but another wave of water greeted him.

“No demon or angel,” another voice yelled behind the iron gate while Sam tried to figure out where the water came from. He didn’t have a chance to find anything however as the gate swung open.

A tall woman dressed in camouflage marched towards him, accompanied by three other people, all pointing their weapons at Sam. Only the woman came all the way towards him and he realized that she was only few inches short than he was.

With a smile she lowered her gun and offered him her hand.

“Sorry about that, we’ve got to be careful nowadays.” Her voice was just as strong as her grip, but then she pulled Sam’s arm forward and in the next moment she drew a fine line through his skin with a small silver knife.

“No shapeshifter either, he can come in,” she yelled towards her companion, no sign of her smile left and totally ignoring him. “Make sure to check him thoroughly though, he’s armed.”

Several other armed men and women passed her and came towards Sam, accompanying him inside, one of them even taking his moped.

Just behind him the gate was closed.

“So, what do you want? You don’t look like a normal refugee.” The tall woman said suspiciously, hands at her hips.

“I’m looking for Dean Winchester,” he replied calmly, “and I will only talk to him.”

Totally unimpressed, she regarded him from head to toe, clicking her tongue every now and then. After a few moments she leaned towards another woman, who was aiming at Sam as well and whispered something into her ear. The other woman nodded and walked away.

“Okay young man, who are you and where are you from?” She asked, although she could easily be younger than he was. “And while we’re at it, whose moped did you steal? It’s just wild speculation but somehow I doubt that it’s yours.”

“Sorry, I don’t want to be rude, but like I already said, I will only talk with Dean Winchester, but I swear I didn’t steal that moped.”

For another few moments they continued the dance, with her asking questions and him dodging them, while two of her men checked his bag and pockets. Finally the other woman came back and muttered something to the leader.

The tall woman nodded before facing Sam again.

“You’re some lucky bastard. Winchester’s here and agreed to meet with you.”

Now she was showing a dark grin. “Follow me, stranger.” She waved towards him and walked away. The circle of armed men and women never let Sam leave their center.

They ended up in front of a small building, slightly bigger than a normal garage.

The tall woman looked at Sam and then nodded towards the other woman.

“Shannon, open the door.”

Sam didn’t know what he had expected, but as the door opened he could see the back of a man who didn’t even care to turn around. Slowly, Sam entered the room, which was empty except for a large desk beneath the only window and three badly used chairs. The man was standing in front of the desk, staring at something that could’ve been an ancient map. 

“Who did you bring me, Debra?” The man asked, still staring at the paper in front of him. Sam noted his strange clothing, he looked like a thief right out of a B-Movie, from the black gloves to the tight-fitting black turtleneck, covered under a long, dark leather jacket, black jeans ending in combat boots, the whole nine. If this were a movie, Sam knew that this had to be the bad guy.

“Don’t know, didn’t tell me his name,” the tall woman replied, quite serious.

Sam wanted to enter the conversation but found himself speechless as the man in front of him turned around.

Neither the black gloves nor the ridiculously tight-fitting turtleneck bothered him the moment he stared into those familiar green eyes. As lifeless as they were and as hard those features, the man in front of him was Dean, to the very last detail.

Sam knew that this man wasn’t _his_ brother, but after months of searching, his brain imagining all kinds of horrors that Michael could be subjecting him to, all he wanted to do was hug this man and never let go of him.

Almost casually, the man in front of him dragged a shotgun from the table behind him and pointed it at Sam.

“So, who the hell are you?”

 

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,   
> I am deeply sorry for taking so long with this chapter, some unexpected things turned up additional to my exams so I just couldn't make it earlier. From now on I'll try my best to keep this on weekly update.  
> Still I hope you'll have a lot of fun with this next chapter.  
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, they brighten my days.
> 
> Greetings  
> Sharry

Chapter 2

 

A few minutes later

 

“You seem less surprised than I expected.”

Dean looked at him, quite unimpressed, looking way too familiar.

A sharp pain filled Sam’s heart, calling him this way, calling him his brother’s name.

No, it was just wrong, after all he wasn’t _his_ Dean, just a replica, just a copy, not his brother, no matter the looks, no matter the voice. No, Sam wouldn’t call him Dean, he couldn’t call him Dean, he was the other one, Yes, Sam decided, he wasn’t Dean, just the other one, the Other Dean.

“Don’t take it personally, but alternate universes aren’t the strangest thing I’ve heard in my lifetime.”

‘Other Dean’ didn’t seem to be aware of what Sam was pondering about. He wasn’t smiling but his voice didn’t sound as gruff as before.

“Although I have to admit that you’re the first to claim to be my brother of another world.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that, this guy was taking his story way better than he’d hoped for. Yet it was difficult to watch him move and talk, every gesture was as familiar to him as it was alien. This man grim and dark, much rougher than the brother Sam knew.

“Well, I think it’s strange you don’t even recognize me. You didn’t have a younger brother?”

Other Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Is this some weird icebreaker for small talk or what?”

Sam shook his head.

“No, I’m just wondering, Michael and Lucifer are supposed to have blood-related vessels, but if you don’t have a sibling, why did Michael choose you?”

Suddenly a shadow of a smile crossed the older man’s lips.

“Oh, you’re not as stupid as you look.”

Slightly offended, Sam folded his arms as the other one continued talking.

“But I have questions of my own. So if you’re Lucifer’s true vessel and searching for help to get rid of Michael from another universe, then that means Lucifer won the apocalypse in your world, right?”

Sam couldn’t hide a triumphal grin.

“No, my brother and I, we stopped the apocalypse. It didn’t happen.”  
“Excuse me?”

This seemed to be a lot less believable than the whole alternate universes thing.

“Yeah, my brother was totally against following those angels’ orders, so we chose our own path.”

This was the very first time that Other Dean softened.

For a moment he was silent, brooding over something Sam wasn’t aware of.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. The apocalypse never happened in your world, so you, your brother, Michael and Lucifer are still alive, but you came here to find something that might help kill a different Michael, so where are your Michael and Lucifer?”

“Michael’s in Lucifer’s cage, but Lucifer’s dead and I don’t need help to kill Michael, I want to save my brother. This other Michael is possessing him, so I need a way to catch him, after that we can expel him from Dean. If I understand correctly, you were possessed by Michael during the apocalypse, yet you’re here, free. So what happened? Did he leave you for another vessel or was there a possibility for you to reject him?”

The copy of his brother avoided Sam’s eyes as he cast his view down to the wooden floor. His stiff features seemed to smooth slightly for a second, but then he looked up again, and whatever it was had gone.

“He didn’t leave me for another vessel,” Other Dean denied coolly, “I rejected him.”

Somehow those words sent waves of hopes through Sam’s body.

“How? How did you do it?”

He made a step towards the man who looked just like his brother.

“Relax, hunter. First you tell me, what’s in it for me? You see, sure, I’d like to kick Michael’s ass and I don’t really care what universe he’s from. But this Michael right here is my priority. So unless you can offer me something in return I would rather spend my time catching this bastard and killing him instead of talking with my brother from another Milky Way.”

Those words weren’t colder or harsher than anything else he had said up until now, they were calculating, almost flat. Similar to Sam, he seemed to have an important mission and didn’t have any patience to waste. Still, he seemed curious and not all that hostile, despite his suspicious eyes and cold words.

“If you help me save my brother, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you kill this Michael over here. I have friends who will probably help as well and they’re strong.”

“I don’t need help,” the other one snapped, “I can take care of Michael on my own.”

“Yeah sure, there’s no way one mere human can beat an archangel.”

“Oh hunter, I’m no mere human. Believe me, I left that behind long ago.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at the confidence, but decided not to push any further; this guy wasn’t his brother, just a means to an end.

“So if you don’t want help, what can I offer you? What do you want?”

Other Dean’s face darkened in a resolute smirk.

“An archangel’s blade.”

This request surprised the younger man.

“Why? Only an archangel can wield one.”

The other one shrugged.

“Let me worry about that. Do you have one or not?”

“Yes we do, but not here, I left it in my universe.”

Lifeless eyes started glimmering and the evil grin grew.

“Fine. So you have something I want and maybe I’m willing to help you.”

Suddenly Other Dean turned around, grabbed his shotgun and a small kit behind it and started tearing his weapon down, apparently attempting to clean it.

“Why don’t you start telling me your story and afterwards I decide if I help you or not?”

“Why do you wanna know?” Sam inquired. “What does it matter?”

The older man licked his lips slowly, his eyes pinned on his weapon, almost ignoring Sam.

“I’m curious, that’s about it. You see I didn’t expect a guy from another universe to show up, claiming to be my brother and asking for my help. This could turn out quite interesting and maybe I can finally win the upper hand against Michael.”

The gentle focus of his voice was giving Sam the creeps. He suddenly understood why the farmer called this man crazy.

“But I’m no fool, you could be lying, and just because you’re a human doesn’t mean I trust you further than this gun can shoot. So I’ll offer you a deal: tell me your story, tell me how you and my other self stopped the apocalypse and how he still ended up being Michael’s pet and maybe – if it’s worth it – I’ll help you.”

“And if not?”

He could feel the tension, this man was more dangerous than he had first thought. Maybe there was some of his Dean in him after all.

Other Dean shrugged his shoulders and his lips tugged upwards at the edge.

“Well, I reserve the right to kill you.”

Those cold eyes pinned him in place.  
“After all, if it weren’t for you, I would’ve already left this camp.”  
Sam gulped heavily.

“But if you kill me, you won’t get the blade and it seems like you really need it.”

“Nah,” The other man cocked his head, “I can just wait for another Sam Winchester of yet another universe to show up. I’ve got enough to keep me busy till then.”

He really was a madman but Sam wasn’t sure how serious his threat was. After all, he’d started cleaning the only apparent weapon in the room and although Sam had been completely disarmed, he could still fight.

Sam didn’t even know yet if this guy could truly help him – or was actually willing to – but on the other hand he was his best shot, so he sighed and shrugged.

“What do you wanna know? Where shall I start?”

Other Dean was inspecting his weapon, not even looking at Sam.

“Well, where to start a story?” He asked mockingly. “I’d guess at the beginning.”

“You want me to tell you my whole life story? Why?”

“Because I said so.” That was the only answer he got.

This guy was annoying, had managed to crawl under his skin in a way that not even the real Dean could manage, try as he might sometimes.

But Sam started talking. He started before the beginning, with the deal his mother made to save his father. He explained how his mother was killed, narrated how he and Dean were raised into the hunter life, recalled how he died (the first time) and Dean traded his life for Sam’s, how he went to hell and broke the first seal, how Sam broke the last one and freed Lucifer. He talked about how they didn’t follow the angels’ orders and stopped the apocalypse with him and Adam, hosting Lucifer and Michael, falling into the cage.

He continued with an abridged version of his life, skimming over certain details, emphasizing others.

The man in front of him seemed to be barely listening, his eyes fixed on his shotgun – which was clean enough to be sold as new – but sometimes he would look up, his eyes more alive than Sam had yet seen, sometimes he would repeat single words, or pry further. Some questions made no sense to the hunter, they seemed incoherent or far too focused on certain details that Sam considered unimportant.

Still, Sam answered them all as he continued his story. He talked about how the angels fell and how they freed the Darkness to save Dean from the Mark of Cain, how they released Lucifer in order to fight the Darkness, how it ended in Lucifer’s child, Jack, being born, who ripped a rift between two universes by accident.

He ended his narration with his brother allowing Alternate Michael to possess him in order to defeat Lucifer in a deal that was almost instantly betrayed.

His lips felt dry when he finally finished talking.

By now he was sitting on one of the worn chairs.

Other Dean stood opposite, still leaning against the table, still regarding his weapon, now built back into one fine, working piece.

Several minutes passed but he remained silent.

Sam grew impatient, another glance at his watch told him that he had been talking for almost two hours, precious time, time he didn’t have, so waiting for this man to digest his life story wasn’t something he needed.

“So...”

The moment he started talking the other one lifted a hand, silencing him like an ignorant brat.

“Hey, you can’t just...”

He cut Sam off with a look. This was the first time he felt actually scared. Something about this guy was different, not only different from his brother, but different from normal humans. He wasn’t just crazy, this was deeper.

For two or three heartbeats they stared motionless at each other, then Other Dean sighed and put his gun down.

“Fine, I’ve heard enough. I’ll accompany you into your world and help you with your Michael problem.”

“What?” This was a little bit too sudden for the hunter to actually believe it.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

The other man regarded him with slightly tilted head.

“Yes, I guess so, but what...” He stumbled over his own words. “I don’t even know if you can help me or how. Why did I have to tell you all that? What’s the big deal about all of this?”

“Geez, you’re annoying, you know that?”

“I could say the same,” Sam replied and glared back, standing to emphasize his point. “You know, just because you look like my brother and say you can help me, doesn’t mean I trust you. You threatened to kill me and now you just want to help me out of… what? The goodness of your heart? Excuse me for being a little bit skeptical.”

Now, he was taller than his brother’s replica and he could see that the other man disliked that just as much as the Dean he knew did. It gave him a grim satisfaction to watch as Other Dean grit his teeth together, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Okay,” the other man almost spat, “fine. So I’ll explain.”

He turned around and started folding the old map.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t lying. Just because you’re human doesn’t mean you’re not teaming up with the angels and of course I was curious. And no offense, but if that’s how my life would’ve turned out if you were around I’m not actually sad to be an only child.”

“So what, the past two hours were just storytime?”

“No, I just told you that I needed to check your background and this way I could also figure out if I can actually help you.”

“So you can?”

“Damn straight.”

Sam wasn’t convinced, he folded his arms and glared at the other man.

“Or you’re just saying that to get my archangel blade.”

Other Dean grinned slightly as he turned back to face him.

“Touché. That’s why I suggest that you give me the blade _after_ I give you your brother. That’s all I’m asking. And if we fail, then that’s on me and you don’t owe me anything.”

After a moment Sam huffed a laugh.

“You really need that blade don’t you? Without that, you’ve got nothing against Michael.”

The older man shrugged his shoulders, pushing his jaw slightly forward, obviously annoyed.

“Do we have a deal or not?”

“You’re willing to travel to another universe, counting only on my words, just like that? It could be a trap and you know that. You must be damn desperate.”

Other Dean walked past him, towards the door.

“Don’t worry, hunter, I can take care of myself and yeah, this is the end of the world, so I might be a little bit desperate.”

 

Half an hour later Sam was walking next to this copy of his brother through the camp towards a parking lot.   
Other Dean had taken the liberty to talk with that Debra again – who turned out to be one of few hunters living in the camp and leading it – to organize some stuff.

Walking down the street Sam noticed the people staring at his companion, but this time he was certain that it was fear. He wondered what kind of person was walking beside him, but he was out of options and they had kind of worked with worse.

Ketch for example, or the freaking king of Hell, what was one more madman?

“You haven’t told me anything about you yet,” he commented.

“And I don’t plan to,” Other Dean answered dryly.

“What? I told you my whole life story and now you won’t even tell me how you were able to re...”

“Shut your damn mouth if you wanna keep it,” the other one hissed.

They walked passed multiple people busying themselves with some work or another.

“Why are you keeping it a secret? It’s not your fault, you know?” Sam glanced at the man beside him, who walked even stiffer than his Dean did.

“This ain’t your universe, hunter, so don’t lecture me about it.”

He stared straight ahead, his voice cold, but not nearly as cold as his features.

“My name is Sam,” he insisted.

“Yeah, understood that the first time you said it.”

Sam sighed in defeat. This guy was troublesome, but he had to deal with it if he wanted to save his brother.

“Okay, can you at least tell me where we going?”

“To my car, of course. Or do you want to ride back on your half-dead bike? Although I think its color fits you.”

Once more there was the shadow of a grin flitting over the older man’s lips.

And then Sam saw it.

“Baby,” he whispered.

It was the exact same car he had grown up in.

Well, not the exact same. The car Sam called his home had been treated like a tender memory over the years. First his father and later his brother had taken hours of careful labor to repair this car over and over again. Yes, the Baby he knew had her scratches and dents, the doors never stopped screeching, no matter how often Dean oiled them, but no matter how dinged up she had been, Dean had taken care of her, repaired her, even rebuilt her from scratch a couple of times and she’d barely aged a day since their father bought her over forty years ago.

This car was quite different, and he wasn’t just talking about the multiple dents and blisters, or the deep scratches right down to the bones of the thing, or the black paint that had sloughed off in patches, even the cracked side window was barely worth noting.

This once beautiful, black impala was now covered in countless signs and sigils, spray-painted everywhere, even all over the front shield.

“You know my car?” Other Dean gave him a questioning look.

“Yes,” Sam answered and although he knew that Baby was still safe and sound in the garage of the bunker, it still hurt him to see this beloved car like this. “But my brother takes much better care of her than you do. I think he’d actually kill you if he saw her like this.”

Other Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, I prefer to spend my time doing something useful – like killing the angels who killed half the world’s population – rather than play mechanic.”

Sam rolled his eyes at that snappish comment, but decided to leave it at that.

He followed the other man to the trunk of the car and watched him pop it open and dump his bag inside.

Surprisingly, the trunk looked almost the exactly the same as the one he knew.

Multiple weapons, warding, useful tools, everything more or less organized neatly. Sam even noted the familiar container of holy oil. It seemed that this Dean Winchester had received it from the same source as they did.

It felt hollow to sit down in the passenger seat, next to this man.

“So, you have an idea how to catch Michael?” Sam asked as they closed their doors almost in unison, deciding to ignore the hole in his chest.

Other Dean started the machine and backed out of the parking lot.

“Would I help you if I didn’t?”

“I think you’d do anything to get an archangel’s blade.”

The older one chuckled with a dark grin, but said nothing as they rolled towards the double gate at the entrance.

As they waited for it to be opened, the tall woman approached the driver’s window.

“Winchester!”

Both men turned their heads.

“Debra, what now? I’m about to leave.”

Debra placed a hand on top of the car and leaned down towards the driver.

“Yeah, I can see that. But you didn’t tell me when you’ll come back.”

“That’s because I don’t know. You see, it’s my first flight out of universe so I can’t really give you a time frame.”

Sam watched, curious at how the man next to him smirked as the woman outside looked like she had just bitten her tongue.

“You need to give me something to work with. Hours? Days? _Weeks_?” She insisted, grabbing the window frame with her free hand.

Other Dean turned towards Sam.

“You gonna chime in here?” He asked. 

“Uhm, it’s about twenty miles to the rift and from there I guess half a second?”

The other man lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, that’s quick,” he commented before turning back to Debra.

“So, you see, the moment we’re done with his problem, I’m back.”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“That’s it? That’s what you give me? What’s his problem about, huh? Chasing Michael? Killing him? Come on, Winchester, you’ve been hunting Michael for years now, years! How long do you think this might take? I don’t care what you do when you’re not here, but these people need you, damn it! So don’t give me this crap!”

Other Dean clenched his jaw, moving it slightly like he was chewing on his own words before spitting them out.

“Listen up, Debra,” he gnarled and leaned towards her. “You’re doing great with this camp, really. But this is your responsibility. I help you as much as I can, but my job ain’t saving some God damned people, you got that straight?! My job, the only thing I care about, is killing that son of a bitch. So if this guy...” he pointed his thumb towards Sam, “can actually get me one step closer to that, I don’t care how long it takes. Because you know what? The moment I kill that bastard, everybody here can stop hiding and fighting for their lives. So don’t you bitch at me about informing you over my daily schedule. It ain’t your business!”  
With those words Dean Winchester kicked the gas pedal and headed for the open gate. Making the woman stumble from the car, cursing. Sam could see her from the rear-view mirror almost falling as the dust whirled up around her and the gate slowly started to close again.

Carefully he glanced over to the man to his left, who was staring straight ahead, his teeth still gritted.

“Got something to say?” He growled without so much as glancing at him.

Sam swallowed slightly.  
“Weren’t you a bit harsh on her?” Sam asked simply. “Isn’t she just trying to keep her people safe? What’s wrong with that?”

At that, Other Dean threw his head back and laughed sardonically. His hollow voice made Sam shiver. Suddenly, there was a hand patting his shoulder.

“I’mma say this once.” The copy of his brother smiled at him, but within a heartbeat that smile froze and turned into a dangerous glare. “Keep your nose out of my freaking business or I’ll cut it off.”

He turned back to the road and his whole demeanor lightened.

“So, where are we heading?” He asked then, his voice back into his almost bored business tone.

“Just follow the road to Jim’s farm, from there into the forest. It’s not far.”

Other Dean nodded subtle in agreement.

For a few minutes none of them said anything. It was the strangest drive Sam could imagine, and he had experienced some quite unnerving travels with his brother. This whole trip had been way off base. He had crossed universes to find some clue about that Michael, about his weaknesses, how to find and catch him, but instead he found this copy of his brother, this _Other_ Dean, who claimed he could help him but wouldn’t explain how.

“Okay, listen,” Sam broke the silence and took a deep breath. “We don’t have to become buddies or anything but I would really appreciate if you could give me a heads-up about how you plan on saving my brother.”

The older man rolled his eyes.

“Easy peasy,” he scoffed. “I come to your world. We lure Michael out, trap him and then we suppress him long enough for your brother to take the wheel and reject him. Piece of cake.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, _I_ told you that plan, I want to know _how_.”

The driver was silent for a second.

“You have a way to repel Michael already. Your brother doesn’t need to reject him.”

It surprised Sam how easily Other Dean had figured that out.

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. “We have a little device that can exorcise any angel or demon from their vessel.”

“Huh, that sounds interesting. Makes a lot of things easier.” The other one seemed impressed but not overwhelmed.

“Only if we can find and secure the one we want to expel,” Sam replied discouraged.

“Yeah, I’m covering that part, so don’t you worry about that.”

Other Dean seemed too relaxed for Sam to actually believe him.

“And how? You haven’t told me that so far.”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Great,” the hunter hissed, once again, the similarities to his brother were showing.

In the far distance, the little farm house came into view.

“Is it true that you made that house not only angel proof but so that they can’t even notice it?” He asked to keep the conversation going.

“Yep,” the other one answered offhand.

“And you made that refugee camp secure as well. How do you know all this stuff if you’re no hunter?”

The man behind the wheel turned towards him for a second with a wary expression.

“I thought you already know my history with Michael.”

“Well, I was possessed by Lucifer and I have no clue how to hide a building from the angels, let alone a whole village.”

Other Dean huffed slightly before looking at the road again.

He was about to reply but was interrupted when the screams of sirens filled the air.

“The angels?” Sam asked alarm, remembering a few hours ago when he had heard that sound for the first time. “Can we make it to the house in time?”

“Why would we do that?”

He stared at his brother’s copy.

“Because of the cleansing! Jim said some strange fog would kill...”

“Relax hunter. Do you know how often they cleanse? Like four or five times a day.”

“So?”

Why did it matter if one time was enough to kill him?

“So do you think I have time to take cover every damn time those sirens call out? If I’m able to make a house angel proof, don’t you think I figured something out for my car as well?”

He sounded somewhat annoyed, maybe because he had to justify himself in front of Sam, but the hunter couldn’t care less about this madman’s hurt feelings.

“Is that why you defaced her?” He asked, gesturing to the symbols on the windscreen.

Now those lifeless eyes stared him down.

“Keep talking and I throw you out. I always wanted to find out how long it takes that fog to kill a human.”  
Sam wasn’t sure how serious that threat was.

“Do you know what this cleansing is about?” He decided not to deepen their little dispute. “Why did the angels start hunting monsters and leave the humans alone?”

The man behind the wheel sighed, but settled back in his seat.

“They never stopped hunting humans,” he answered after a while. “It’s just that there aren’t many left to hunt and those who did survive know how to protect themselves.”  
Sobered, Sam stared out of his window, seeing a trace of shining white fog appear between the lost trees. Weightless, the silent death crept closer and the hunter prayed that the man next to him was telling the truth.

“And for the monsters,” he sighed again, “they’re getting rid of all demons, because that’s their freaking job, or so they say at least, but they don’t really care about the rest.”

“What about that cleansing then?”

The wall of white mist had almost reached the car.

“They’re just showing off,” Other Dean said with a shrug. “They want to remind us every day that they can kill us and that we need to hide from them in order to survive.”

“So those sirens...”

“Are mocking us. They stopped just killing humans for nothing years ago, they don’t want more dead people filling up Hell or Heaven, they want fear, desperation. It’s almost like they feed on it.”

He could hear the hatred and anger in those words. Other Dean acted like he didn’t care about anything besides killing Michael, but he still helped people, and he suffered watching their pain. This was a side of Dean Winchester that Sam knew all too well.

By now they were driving much slower than before because the fog surrounding them made it impossible to see further than a few feet.

“It should be here,” the driver mumbled and suddenly turned the car to the right. Sam was about to yell at him, but then he noticed the dark shadow of an old house not far away.

They had left the highway and were driving towards the woods now, on an abandoned street.

“How did you know?” He asked, regarding the man next to him.

But the older man didn’t answer, instead he watched straight ahead as they reached the first trees, nothing more than looming shadows behind the white wall.

At some point the asphalt turned into rocks and dirt.

“It’s because of me,” Other Dean interrupted the silence with heavier words. “The cleansing. They do it to...” He didn’t finished his sentence but slightly shook his head.

“So how far do we have to drive?” He asked instead.

“Not that much further.” Sam decided that it was for the best not to push the subject.

“I can’t really see anything, but it should be maybe just over a mile from the forest line.”

The other man nodded and glanced at the odometer.

Minutes later they sat in the car close to the point where Sam assumed the rift to be and waited for the fog to dissolve. He had tried to pick up a conversation but the man with his brother’s face had blocked each single try.

Finally the driver nodded as the sirens stopped.

“It should be safe now. We can go out.”

Sam was skeptical but the other man had already opened the door.

Nothing in the air remained of the life-threatening danger that had been surrounding them only seconds ago.

Sam watched his companion walking to the trunk as he pulled his own bag out of the footwell, before he walked towards the rift, which was now in plain sight.

Shortly afterwards Other Dean joined him, a backpack over his shoulder and a duffle bag in his right hand.

“So that’s it?” He asked almost unimpressed. “This is the great gateway to another dimension?”

Sam laughed slightly.  
“Yeah, I know, doesn’t look like much.”

The flickering light cast shadows over the forest ground as both men watched the rift glimmer in soft yellow.

“Well, fine. Standing here won’t do us any good. So go ahead, hunter. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sam glanced over to the other man.  
He felt the need to say something.

“Now come on. Ain’t getting younger over here.”

And with a hard shove, Dean Winchester pushed him through the rift.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody,
> 
> Here comes the next chapter (yeah, I know I'm late again, only one exam left to go and then I hope I'm better with keeping my schedule ;-))  
> Hope you all have a great time and thank you for all your comments and kudos, I really appreciate them^^
> 
> Sharry

Chapter 3

 

Sam stumbled into the library.

“Oh my, I didn’t expect you to be back already… and who is _that_?”

He heard Rowena talking to him as he turned around to watch the Dean Winchester of another universe step out of the yellow light of the rift.

“My dear, I thought you wanted to save your brother, I didn’t expect you to replace him.”

“It’s not like that,” he tried to correct Rowena while he regarded Other Dean taking a wary look around without saying anything.

“I’m not judging, Samuel. This might be the easiest solution for all of us. You got your brother back and I can...”

“Rowena, he’s not my brother.”

“Samuel?” Other Dean let out a loud snort of amusement.

“It’s Sam,” the hunter snarled, before turning back to Rowena.

“He’s going to help us get Dean back, you get that?”

The witch glanced at him.

“If you say so. I won’t object. What’s your name, honey?” She looked at the man from another universe.

“Dean,” the other man answered calm. “Dean Winch...”

“What are you?”

They were suddenly interrupted by the dark voice of Castiel from the direction of the steps leading to the main corridor.

“Get away from him, Sam, that’s _not_ your brother!”

“I know, Ca...”

“Castiel,”

Sam was pushed aside by Other Dean, who strode past him before stopping right in front of the angel, a strange expression on his face; his eyes flickered from one point to another across Cass’ features, his mouth gaping slightly, fists shaking. This was the very first time Sam had seen him look so... human, this was the first time he actually seemed alive.

“And who are you?” The angel asked, narrowing his eyes.

After a moment, Other Dean glanced back to Sam before closing his mouth and shaking his head, slamming the walls of stern rigidity back into place.

“My name’s Dean Winchester,” he told the angel, “but before you scare the hunter even more. No, I’m not his idiot of a brother, who became Michael’s pet. I’m from another universe, as unbelievable as it may sound.”

The angel took another step up the stairs, now standing directly in front of the other man.

“You’re lying. There is no Dean Winchester in that other universe.”

Other Dean stepped back, his eyes never leaving the angel, guarded, but there was something else there too, something painful that Sam couldn’t quite identify, though his voice was no less sarcastic for it.

“I’m from another other universe.”

“That can’t be,” Castiel mumbled, but then he turned towards Sam who nodded in confirmation and he softened, “how did you end up in another universe?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. But he’s the proof and he said he can help us with Michael.”

“You can?” Castiel turned towards Other Dean, urgent now, but Other Dean was still staring at him in a way that was starting to get concerning, and simply nodded.

Then, quick as a viper, he spun on the ball of his foot to face Sam.

“Didn’t you tell me Castiel got killed by Lucifer?” It was almost an accusation.

“Uhm yeah, he did,” Sam blinked at the drastic change in demeanor.

“So how are you alive?” He said, looking desperately back to Cass.

“Oh, you sweet, innocent child,” Rowena interrupted, “don’t you know that death surrounding the Winchesters is seldom a permanent matter?”

Other Dean scoffed slightly and shook his head, Sam noted how his brother’s replica regarded the ground for a few seconds, gathering himself in a way that was so Dean-like it took him aback, he caught a low mutter that sounded something like, “Well, only in this world apparently.”

but he seemed to be the only one.

“However,” Rowena continued, changing the subject from Other Dean’s odd reaction, “I’m glad you came back so quickly, Samuel. I’ll actually be able to salvage some grace from this.”

She begun to gather up the spell materials as the rift faded from existence.

“Wait a sec, witch.”

Everyone turned to Other Dean, who had his hackles raised again.

“If that line of light is gone, how am I gonna get home?”

“Uhm, that was not part of the arrangement I had with Samuel. All I needed to do was open the rift once, that’s about it.”

“Rowena,” Sam sighed, “we talked about this already. This isn’t only about saving Dean. If we don’t stop Michael, he will destroy the world we know, so helping us isn’t a _favour_ , it’s kinda a necessity at this point. Besides, I promised to help him kill his Michael if he helps us save Dean.”

“You did what?” Castiel asked, outraged. “Why would you? We have more than enough problems in this universe, and you decided that fighting one Michael isn’t enough?”

“No, Cass, that’s not what I said,” Sam scrambled, feeling that with the lingering tension in the room everyone was on the edge of a fight, making a rational discussion even more difficult than it usually was with Cass and Dean, even if this was a different Dean, he seemed to have the same bull-headed stubbornness.

“You don’t need to worry, Castiel. I don’t expect the hunter to help me fight my Michael. All that I want from you is an archangel’s blade.”

Other Dean’s voice had slipped back to the toneless mask that was more disconcerting than any anger.

“ _Samuel_ ” he smirked at the word, “and I agreed that I will help you save the doppleDean and in return I get the blade.”

Sam watched as Cass looked the other man over, his eyes still narrowed.

“And of course, that deal includes my safe return home. I didn’t think that was gonna be an issue.” Other Dean’s voice was now rising steadily with every word.

“It’s not,” Sam insisted, “we got back early, so you have enough grace to open another rift for a few seconds, right, Rowena?” He glanced over to her pointedly.

“Certainly,” She said primly, “but don’t expect me to be part of your Michael-thingy. I’ve had an archangel kill me once already. I can do without a second time.”  
“Rowena, we need you to help summon Michael.”

“And I already told you that I cannot do that. As capable as I may be, the ritual we’re talking about is only able to summon the Michael of _this_ universe, or it would be if he weren’t in the cage. It won’t work on the actual problem.”

“We won’t need that.”

They all turned to stare at Other Dean.

“Like I told you, hunter, I have everything we need to catch and expel Michael. The question is: do you wanna kill him?”

“There’s no way we can kill Michael, even the blade of an archangel is only effective if used by another archangel.”

“Let me worry about that, Castiel. Answer my question, hunter, do you just wanna save your brother or do you want to kill Michael?”

The way this man met Sam’s eyes was unsettling, the right corner of his mouth curled slightly in a dark grin, like a man familiar with blood on his hands, one who didn’t hate the feeling; but the most disturbing thing were his eyes; they were Dean’s, the same depth, the same color and the same caged feelings, but they had lost any light that his brother’s had – and they didn’t have much – They were the eyes of a dead man walking, except when he was talking about Michael, and those few seconds when he’d first laid eyes on Cass.

He bore so many similarities to Dean, but in the most vital of ways they were fundamentally different, it was disconcerting to see familiar mannerisms paired with those eyes.

“I wanna kill Michael,” he answered quietly. If Michael had the power to turn _his_ Dean into the creature in front of him, then he had to make sure he was taken off the board before that happened, permanently.

“Great,” his brother’s copy said, that malicious smile growing as he regarded Sam for another second.

“So, shall we come up with a plan?” He spun and strode towards Rowena, stepping right into her personal space before stopping. She pursed her lips at the intrusion.

“You,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “you stay where I can keep an eye on you. Don’t you dare try to up and leave. When this is over you’re gonna work your little spells and send me right back. And if I were you, I wouldn’t try to mess with me, because I will hunt you down and tear that pretty little throat out.”

“Tze,” Rowena, clicked her tongue and waved his threat away, unimpressed. “You could simply ask instead of resorting to threats, little man. Besides, I have nothing to fear from you. When I die, _he’ll_ be the one to do it.”

She nodded towards Sam, giving him her loveliest smile.

“Is that so?” Other Dean asked and followed her eyes. “Interesting.”

Then he turned away and opened his duffle bag.

“Luring Michael out will be our smallest problem and as for trapping him, I’ve got some holy oil and enough holy chalk to stain a whole city.”

“Holy chalk?” Sam repeated. Chalk wasn’t something they used if they could help it, it was too easy to smudge.

“Yeah, if it gets sanctified it’s stronger than paint or spray and angels need much longer to break it. The chalk itself is perishable, but the sanctification gives it some kick.”

Confused, Sam looked to Cass, who shrugged. “He’s not wrong.”  
“You knew that?”

“I never thought about it, but yes. The transiency of the chalk and the...”

“We can talk about biblical references later,” Other Dean snapped, “you mentioned some exorcising device you wanted to use, hunter. How does it work? What do you need for it? What happens when the angel gets exorcised?”

They spent the next hour or so trying to hash out the plan. Rowena chimed in the odd comment, either a sarcastic one-liner or something useful, it was a toss-up; Castiel watched Other Dean warily, choosing his words with care; Sam tried his best to not rise to his not-brother’s behavior.  
Dean Winchester was not a very sociable person, this man was even less so; he interrupted everything he deemed not relevant to the case and was… blunt in his disagreements. Although he was no hunter, he seemed to know a lot about lore and the supernatural, even though some fundamental details differed between their worlds, monsters apparently didn’t vary all that much, he was also frustratingly vague about the details of exactly _how_ he was going to lure Michael out into the open.

He made it clear that he didn’t trust the hyperbolic pulse generator and he made it even clearer how little he thought of his counterpart for saying ‘yes’ to Michael.

Sam wasn’t the only one growing irritated by that.

Before they had even agreed on the basics Other Dean’s patience ran out.

“Show me the blade,” he demanded as Cass and Sam shared a look; Sam annoyed but nonetheless hopeful, Cass obviously only sharing the first feeling, but at those words, he immediately turned even more defensive.

“No!” he said, “you get nothing until Dean is home.”

“I didn’t ask you to _give_ me the damn thing, I just wanna see it! Make sure you’re not lying and that I’m not wasting my time. In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly got anywhere to run to. _I’m_ the one needing a show of faith here.”

The angel glanced over at Sam, who nodded after a moment, and he relented.

“Fine, give me a second.” Cass sounded far from happy but with one last glare in Other Dean’s direction, he turned and headed out, vanishing into the depths of the bunker.

Sam stared at his brother’s copy.

“So, about the plan...” he began as they had still not actually made one up yet.

“What about it? Hey, you got anything to drink around here?”

Sam rolled his eyes and strode over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle at random.

“How are you gonna get Michael to show?” He asked as he filled two glasses with amber-colored liquid. He passed one glass to Other Dean and one to Rowena, who was still watching them, now perched delicately on a chair, trying her best to get Other Dean to notice her ignoring him since he’d made a rather rude comment concerning her age. Unfortunately for her, he either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“That’s easy,” he said, flopping down onto one of the fancy chairs, throwing his bags on the table in front of him. “The second he senses my presence, he’ll come searching for the source.”

“Why should he?” Sam sat down opposite to him as casually as he could manage while watching the man’s every move. He didn’t trust him at all. “Even if you leave the bunker and its protection, why would Michael come for you? He already has his true vessel. Why would he need a replica?”

The other man chuckled lowly.

“Don’t worry, he _will_ come. After all, archangels are God’s most powerful creations, there’s nothing they need, so why do they come to Earth?”

“To do what their daddy told them?” Rowena sniped, apparently unable to hold back the quip.

“Wrong,” he said, raising his glass in her direction. “When Michael was possessing me, I found out that God never told the angels to kick the Apocalypse loose, they did it on their own.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam mumbled. “Zachariah said something about that this was the only… well… _anything_ they had left from God and that they hoped it’d be enough to get him to show.”

“Yeah, you see, that’s where the archangels have been playing their siblings. At least in my universe they didn’t care about Daddy’s big plan. Michael and Raphael used it as an excuse to bring Heaven to Earth, or to be more exact, to make Earth their territory.”

“Why?”

Other Dean kicked his feet up onto the table and leaned back.

“Because they’re power-craving assholes, that’s why. Heaven’s been under Michael’s control ever since God left. Everything was running smoothly, I guess he got bored, but that doesn’t matter. The thing is, Michael is and was always the strongest being in the universe next to his own daddy.”

“And his daddy’s sister,” the witch added.

“And his daddy’s sister,” he corrected. “The only thing Michael worries about is something that could be an actual threat to his almighty status. You know, like an almost equal brother or – well – someone like me.”

Other Dean opened his arms like he was presenting himself.

Sam chuckled without humor and poured himself a drink as well. Okay, so maybe they didn’t have a chance after all, this guy was clearly so out of his mind with ego and trauma that he thought he was a match for an archangel.

“And why would Michael be afraid of you? He wasn’t afraid of my brother.”

“Well...” Other Dean lifted his glass to his lips. “Believe me, I ain’t your brother.”

Sam wanted to push further but Castiel chose that moment to return, a small casket in his hands.

“Here’s the blade,” he stated and Other Dean pulled his feet from the table, slammed the glass down and hastened to his feet, approaching the angel.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Sam stood up as well and followed, but it didn’t seem like the man had even heard him, almost awestruck he reached for the wooden box before very visibly holding himself back.

“Can you show it to me?” He asked Cass in the first display of respect for another being for the first time since Sam had met him.

Castiel slowly raised the lid, his narrowed eyes never leaving the other man, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“After so many years,” Other Dean whispered, his fingers still only inches away from grasping the blade. Then he pulled his hand back and turned around, coughing slightly.

“So you told me the truth, hunter.”

“Of course I did.”

They stared at each other while Other Dean seemed to be weighing something out.

“Then I guess I should return the favor.”

With those words, Other Dean pulled his jacket off, confusing Sam with what he wanted to tell them.

“The truth about what?”

“The truth about my powers.”

Sam huffed slightly. “Powers, wha-..”

He lost his words as the other man pulled his gloves off. Lines of what looked like black ink traveled down the back of the uncovered hand, twisting around the fingers like dancing swirls of darkness.

“What the...”

Rowena stepped up behind him to catch a better look, grasping his arm like she needed something to hold on to.

The stranger pulled the other glove of.

“Nice anti-possession tattoo you got there.” He winked at Sam and ripped his turtle-neck off, the dog tag beneath bouncing against his bare chest.

“Oh God,” the witch whispered high-pitched.

The lines and patterns covering the hands extended over the complete upper body, painting more symbols and sigils into the skin than Sam could count, disappearing into the waistband.

“You poor child, what have you done to yourself?”

Sam glanced over to her, she covered her quivering mouth with a hand, shaking her head in denial.

“Like I told you, hunter, I left humanity behind long ago,” Other Dean scoffed, his smile wry and humorless.

The ink-like lines ran all the way up his neck, ending in an anti-possession sigil covering his throat, just beneath his jawline.

He smirked at Sam, and the same fear that Sam had only ever felt in Lucifer’s presence sparked in his gut.

“This is why Michael will show up. You see, I’m not a replica of your brother. I’m much stronger and way more powerful than the average human being. Therefore I’m a threat, but I’m also the prey, because the only thing greater than Michael’s fear of losing his untouchable status is his own greed for power. So he’ll come, and he’ll want me.”

“No,” Castiel said, his eyes wide with horror as he stared at the man in front of him, “no matter how obsessed Michael might be with power, he would never take the vessel of such an abomination.”

His voice broke and he pressed the casket against his chest. Sam’s heart went out to him, he didn’t quite understand the implications of the marks on Other Dean’s torso but Cass clearly did, and it was obviously bad, seeing that kind of bad on Dean – even if it wasn’t _Dean –_ had shaken him deep.

“Yeah, you know, I thought the same back then. That’s why I came up with this, so that Michael and every other angelic or demonic being would be so disgusted they would never want to touch me again.”

He snorted derisively and pulled his shirt back on.

“But guess what, if it’s about power it doesn’t matter how obscene the price is. Turns out no matter what I do, I’m still prime cut.”

They were all silent for a moment, Sam could have sworn that the black lines on Other Dean’s fingers were moving.

“That’s not a normal tattoo, right? I mean, that’s no ink.”

“Of course not.” It was the witch, who answered as she walked past Sam and towards the stranger.

She took his hand and traced one of the lines.

“Archangel grace fused with the essence of a demon, bathed in virgin’s blood,” her voice was barely loud enough to reach Sam, “very few witches are capable of performing magic this extreme and even less would be willing to do so.”

“You’re right about that,” Other Dean answered as he pulled his hand away.   
“In fact it was you, well, the you of my world, although she was bound by something, not as powerful as you are.”

“Is that so?” Rowena said, “and why would the other me be willing to help you with something like this. It would drain almost all of her power, maybe even kill her.”

“She had her reasons,” he said, putting his gloves back on. “As I said: Michael will come. The moment I destroy the warding that hides my presence, he’ll come, no matter where I am. Even the warding of this place won’t be enough to shield me.”

Sam noted how both angel and witch regarded Other Dean with totally different yet similar facial expressions. He seemed to be the only one not fully aware of what his brother’s doppelganger just had shown them. _It makes no difference,_ Sam reminded himself, this guy was just a means to an end.

“Okay,” he said loud enough to break the lingering tension, “so let’s just assume you’re right and Michael does show up, then what?”

“We trap him, as agreed.” He walked past Sam and reached for his drink again, resettling in his chair. “And then you can expel your brother or whatever and afterwards, when Michael finds another vessel, we kill him with that blade.”

He nodded towards Castiel, who still held onto it.

“Haven’t you been listening?” The angel sounded rougher than Sam was used to, his eyes still fixed on Other Dean’s torso, where those marks still lingered out of sight. “Even if this _plan_ – if we can actually call it that – works out and he leaves Dean. Only an archangel can kill another one with this blade.”

“Tze, you don’t know jack squat, do you?” Other Dean twisted towards the angel. “Don’t you have a nephilim, son of Lucifer, in this world? It’s not their status that makes the archangels strong, it’s their grace. Same goes for that kid, although he’s a half-blood, it’s fused to his very DNA.”

“Even if you’re right,” Sam leaned against the table, “Jack lost his powers during the last fight with Lucifer. So we’re back to square zero.”

“I’m more worried about what you said earlier.” Castiel placed the box on the table and folded his arms. “What if Michael does try to make you say yes because of your power and what if in the end you agree? Then we might have Dean back, but we’ll be facing a much stronger, invincible Michael.”

Other Dean laughed dryly, taking another sip of his whisky, grimacing at the burn.

“Not. Gonna. Happen,” he said, a black expression clouding his face, an expression that Sam knew, it was the same look Dean got when he was reminded of Hell, the fierce certainty that he would never go back there, that he would do _anything_ to make sure he didn’t go back there.

Cass seemed to recognize it too and looked away. The shadow passed and Other Dean leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs.

“Besides, there’s no need to worry, my warding makes it impossible for any other being to enter my body, with or without my consent.”

“That might be, but we have yet to find a way to kill Michael. So far, we can only expel him from Dean.” Castiel said, quick to be the voice of dissent, he sat down at the head of the table, Sam followed his lead and sat to his right.

Rowena poured herself another drink before she joined the men, sitting to Sam’s left, her hands shook slightly where she held the glass, though her voice was steady when she spoke.

They discussed for hours, emptying one glass after another, consulting several books and discarding idea after idea.

At one point, Charlie called Rowena but Sam took the phone. He told Charlie that Rowena would stay with them longer, saying only that it was important, which she accepted without further questioning.

Finally their discussion came to an end, leaving them with a more or less decent plan. Now it was difficult to keep the conversation flowing and after several attempts they ran out of things to say, simply sat in silence, staring into their dried-out glasses.

“Well,” Other Dean was the first one to break the silence, “I’m gonna need at least until tomorrow to prepare everything to break the spell.”

“I thought you said you have everything we need.” The angel mocked.

“I’m no witch, Castiel. Spells aren’t my business.”

“Your business?”

“Yeah, you know, like killing angels.”

“Enough, both of you,” Sam interrupted them, “this won’t lead us anywhere.”

He was tired.

It was the first time in months that he was actually getting closer to saving Dean, but nothing was certain and Other Dean trying his best to piss everybody off was working all too well.

His head was heavy, he wanted to sleep, he really needed to sleep for a few hours.

“Okay, guys, is there anything else we need to talk about?”

The others shrugged and shook their heads.

“In that case, I need a nap.”

He stood up.

“What about you?” He asked Other Dean. “You need a bed as well?”

Other Dean grinned into his glass.

“Nah, I’m fine for now. Don’t worry about...”

“Who ordered pizza?!”

“Charlie?”

Surprised, Sam turned towards the top of the stairs as the main door burst open and Charlie bounced in, a flash of red and cheer and accompanied by the smell of warm dough and goopy cheese.

“I didn’t expect you to come.” Sam said, still trying to process.

She was walking down the stairs, two large pizza boxes in her arms and a sunny smile on her face.

“Yeah, you know, I couldn’t let your mom...”

She fell silent as there was a gasp from behind her and Mary started on the stairs as if in a trance, eyes fixed on the man behind Sam.

“Dean,” she whispered.

“Mom?”

Suddenly, she rushed past Charlie and past Sam as Other Dean stumbled into a standing position.

The next moment she flung her arms around her almost-son, a single tear running down her cheek.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody,
> 
> today we get to see a new side of Other Dean ;-) So I hope you have a good time with it.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos, they keep me going.
> 
> Greetings  
> Sharry

Chapter 4

 

Sam didn’t know what to do.

His mother was barely an arm’s length away from him, hugging a stranger from another universe who looked just like her oldest son.

He wanted to say something; needed to say something, but that tear running down her cheek rendered him speechless.

He glanced over to Castiel, who watched the scene just as bewildered, meeting his eyes and shrugging helplessly. He noted Rowena behind the table, a knowing smile on her face, at the bottom of the stairs he saw Charlie with her pizza boxes staring at Other Dean with simple surprise. The young man behind her on the other hand could barely hold onto himself, clenching the rail of the stairs like he was about to crumble, tears in his eyes. Jack whispered some words that Sam couldn’t hear, shaking his head in disbelief.

A sudden movement caught his attention, a flash of light, like the reflection from a compact mirror.

“You are not my son! So who the hell are you?”

Mary still held Other Dean, but her grip had changed, the arm she had flung around him moments before had snagged the back of his turtleneck, yanking it backwards so the material dug into his throat, in her left hand was a small silver knife, placed over the jugular. The blade was steady and her voice was strong as she spoke, the tear she had shed long forgotten.

“The name’s Dean Winchester.” Other Dean smiled sardonically as though nothing were amiss, as though a carbon copy of his mother _wasn’t_ about to either slit his throat or choke him with his own sweater, “But no, I’m not _your_ son.”

The blonde pressed the knife harder against his neck and a drop of red fluid trickled along the sharp edge and dripped onto the tiles. 

“You’re no shapeshifter, so what are you?”

“Oh, so you _are_ a hunter? Interesting.”

“Shut up and answer me, why do you look like my son!?”

Other Dean made no attempt to shrug Mary off and Mary kept her hold tight, leaving the rest of them watching in tense silence, weighed down by the thought of one wrong move.

“Who says he isn’t the one looking like me?”

“Enough of this.” It was Castiel who interrupted the scene, stepping forward to dragging both of them apart. “Mary, this is Dean Winchester from another universe and he will help us save _our_ Dean.”  
“What?” Confused, she made a step back.

“Wait, so this isn’t actual Dean?” Jack walked further into the room.

“Well, I feel kinda de-valued here. Just because I’m not the idiot of this universe who said yes to that bastard of an archangel doesn’t mean I’m not Dean.”

“So he _is_ Dean?” Jack asked again.

“Yes,” Other Dean answered.

“No!” Everybody else yelled.

“Oh, thank God!”

Other Dean chuckled: “Oh believe me, God has nothing to do with this.”

“Okay, I’m totally lost,” Charlie said, dropping the pizza boxes onto the table. “Can someone please explain what’s going on?”

“I can explain,” Sam answered and sighed deeply. He hoped that was true, things were getting messy.

“Yeah, you do that.” His brother’s copy clapped his shoulder almost in a friendly matter. Sam flinched at the touch. “Meanwhile, I get some of that pizza. Not had one for years now. A universe without the apocalypse has its upsides, who knew?”

Although everybody else shared suspicious looks, a few minutes later they were all gathered around the war table, food in the middle, accompanied by mostly alcoholic drinks. 

While Sam told the whole sorry tale again, Other Dean – who was acting exactly how regular Dean acted when faced with a pile of food – worked his way through one slice of pizza after another, the wary eyes of both Mary and Castiel never leaving him.

Jack watched the stranger as well, but he seemed more curious than hostile. Rowena and Charlie exchanged glances between themselves every now and then without saying a word.

At some point, Other Dean and Castiel joined Sam’s narration, answering several of Mary’s questions and turning the story into another discussion about how to beat Michael and save Dean.

Once the pizza ran out they began interrupting each other, their voices growing louder now that there was nothing else to distract their mouths with.

“Okay, okay, this is enough for me.” Rowena stood up a little while later, raising her hands and rolling her eyes dramatically.

“I think we have pretty much decided on what to do and I still need to get those ingredients. Charlie and I had best get going.”

The other redhead got up as well, a little too eagerly for them to believe the reluctant face she pulled. “Good idea. Well, we’re just gonna leave you to your little family discussion. Bye guys!”

Sam echoed the goodbye, he was one of the few who did, but they all grew awkwardly quiet as they watched the two women walk up the stairs, towards the door. Rowena had her hand on the handle when Other Dean called out.

“Witch, you’d better not forget to come back.”

Rowena turned around and smiled at him.

“Do you really believe threatening me will make me come back?”

The other man grinned wider.

“Oh, I don’t know about that, but this certainly will.”

He pulled out the vial filled with archangel’s grace.

“How did you…?” The witch leaned over the rail, like she was trying to reach Other Dean from up there.

“Relax, witch, like I said, all I want is for you to come back and open the gateway to my universe.”

He placed the vial back into his jacket.

“Oh you! You blaggard of a cockroach! I will...”

She was pulled out by Charlie.

“You sure like to pick fights,” Sam mumbled and reached for his drink.

“And I sure like to win them.” 

The angel sighed loud enough to drown Other Dean’s laughter.

“Whatever. Can we get back to the real issue here?”

“Yes please.” Mary said, looking at Other Dean, almost disgusted, the man clearly noticed but he either didn’t care or was trying very hard to look like he didn’t care.

“Fine with me,” he agreed lightly.

“There are still some things I don’t understand. Can you please explain to me how your warding works?”

The youngest at the table leaned forward, addressing Other Dean. He was the only one who didn’t seem creeped out by the guy, Sam noticed, and he wasn’t sure if he should be proud or worried about that.

Other Dean sighed, parroting Castiel from a minute before.

“It’s easy, kiddo. A lot of magic, powerful archangel grace, killing a demon and collecting its essence and – oh, well – the virgin of course, so...”

“Did you actually kill an innocent human being for this?” Cass interrupted, staring at him in disbelief,

“Would you be surprised if I did?” He asked with a smile that was almost gentle, and the hint of something deeper that Sam couldn’t figure out. Cass didn’t answer, his jaw clenched and he looked away.

“Anyway,” Mary interjected, glancing at the angel before narrowing her eyes at Other Dean, “how did you even get the grace?”

The other man rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, I thought you all were hunters? How come I’m working with amateurs?”

“Would you give us a break?” Sam snapped, twisting in his seat to face him. “Maybe you’re the big boss with the lackeys and the reputation for crazy over there in your world, but you’re here now and maybe we’ve got our own problems, but we’ve won far more battles than you have.”

Other Dean looked like he wanted to interrupt but Sam wasn’t done just yet.  
“You know, you keep going on about how powerful you are and treat us like some stupid brats, but at least we stopped the apocalypse. At least we fight not to kill our enemies but to save people. You keep bitching about my brother saying yes, but he did it to save the world, he did it to save Jack and me! What about you? Didn’t you say yes to Michael as well? And for what? Did he promise you something or did you just feel special for being cho...”

The punch to his jaw made Sam’s head snap to the side. He fell over his chair and slid across the tiled floor, smashing his head into the wall and sending his vision spinning.

Dean Winchester was looming over him.

“I told you once, hunter,” he whispered in a deadly voice. “Keep your nose out of my fucking business! I came here to save your brother’s sorry ass so don’t you lecture me. You know nothing about me. Just because your brother and I look alike doesn’t mean anything. Don’t you dare preach to me about Michael! Don’t you dare preach to me about my decisions! Don’t you...”

“Dean, calm down.”

It was Mary, Sam shook himself and his head stopped swimming enough that he could see she had stood up too and had a hand on Other Dean’s shoulder, her voice was soft, no trace of aggression or distrust left.  
“You’re not my mother!” Other Dean hissed, his dead eyes never leaving Sam.

“No, I’m not,” she agreed, “but we’re all fighting here for the same thing, right? And we’ve all been through a lot. It won’t help any of us to compare who suffered more.”

Sam picked himself, rubbing his throbbing chin. That had been some punch. Just now he saw that Castiel was standing as well, his chair flung to the side and toppled, the angel blade in his hand, held back only by the gentle touch of Jack.

Other Dean tore his lifeless eyes from Sam to glance at Mary and his frozen expression softened for half a heartbeat. Then he looked back at Sam, gritted his teeth and walked up to him.

Sam wasn’t sure what he expected, but the offered hand for sure surprised him.

“My apologies,” the other one stated, cold but sincere, “I’m more of a solitary person, my conversation skills are rusty.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sam mumbled but shook hands with him all the same. Then he nodded slightly. “But I’m sorry as well. You’re right, I don’t know what you’ve been through and it’s not my place to judge.”

Other Dean gave him his usual emotionless grin and shook his head. 

“You hunters are some odd folks, I’ll never get used to you.”

“Well, it’s in your blood as well,” Sam commented just as dry. 

“What do you mean by that?”

Sam nodded towards Mary.

“My parents were no hunters,” Other Dean stated, tensing again.

“I got out when I met John,” Mary explained, “I come from a long line of hunters, but I never wanted my children to grow up in this life as well.”

Other Dean looked down at his gloved hands before meeting first Sam’s eyes, and then Mary’s.

“Well, I didn’t,” he answered simply. “I certainly had no clue what was coming.”

It was neither criticism nor appreciation. He was just honest.

“And my brother and I are descendants of the Men of Letters. This here is actually their headquarters,” Sam continued.

“You’re kidding. Why didn’t you tell me that before? Apparently you forgot all the important parts of your story.” His tone was downright friendly now, if Sam had known all it would take was a punch, he would’ve taken that swing a long time ago.

“I didn’t know it was important. You heard of them?”

Other Dean grabbed his drink from the table.

“Sure have. Those British guys showed up in my universe a few years ago, trying to stop the angels, but of course...”

He didn’t continue, but the sudden tiny ray of softness, that had enlighten his dark face, had vanished.

“Anyway.” He turned away, taking the last sip of his drink. “To answer your question,” he didn’t even look at Mary, “When an angel inhabits your body they sometimes leave some of their grace behind, especially if they’re expelled by force or rejected. Michael possessed me for a couple of years, so you can bet that he left enough grace to power up a few standard angels.”

“So you used his grace for this spell.” It wasn’t a question. Castiel shook his head, the blade he had held before long gone. “Are you even aware of what you’ve done?”

The other man huffed slightly.

“No offense, man. But if you’re fighting the most powerful being next to God himself, you need to step it up a bit. You see, you guys here, you got what? Two hella experienced hunters, three if including your OG Dean, an angel, a nephilim, one of the most powerful witches to ever walk the earth. I’m actually surprised you need help to take Michael down.”

He shook his head.

“You know what I got in my universe, against my Michael? A handful of average or slightly above average hunters, taking care of hundreds of scared civilians. That’s it, that’s all there is. None of them stand a chance against the angels, let alone Michael. All they have left is me. So yeah, when I found out that I could never cut my bond with Michael I decided to try and at least get something out of it. This way I might find a way to beat him.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand,” Castiel explained, for the first time not sounding hostile, “but what you’ve done has tainted your soul. You have bound it to Michael for all eternity, which means when you die, your soul will fuse with him, you will never go to heaven or hell. You willingly destroyed your humanity.”

Sam gaped at the angel before looking at the back to Other Dean. He hadn’t thought of that, of course there would be consequences to messing with that kind of dark power. Consequences that seemed not even to faze the man bearing them. For better or worse, this Dean had sacrificed everything to kill Michael. A small part of him wondered if his brother would have done the same, he cut that thought short, he didn’t want to know.

Other Dean placed his empty glass on the table and leveled a calm look at the angel.  
“Believe me, Castiel. I’ve done far worse than that. I know my fate, all I want is to kill Michael before he destroys what’s left of humanity.” He chuckled, “Alright, enough of this downer talk. I’d like to take a nap before we get serious tomorrow. Is there any place I can hit the hay, hunter?”

Feeling somewhat numb, Sam was almost glad over the change of topic.

He showed the other man one of the guest rooms while Mary urged Jack into his own room, the boy hadn’t been sleeping well lately.

While cleaning up, Sam talked quietly with the angel and his mother. He noted that Mary avoided his eyes and that she had lost her tension and energy. She seemed exhausted and her answers consisted mainly of nodding or shaking her head. He wasn’t even sure if she was actually listening.

“Hey, Mom, maybe you should go to bed as well,” he said after they were done. “It was a tough day.”  
“Oh no, I’m fine, Sam,” she replied with a weak smile. “This is actually great, right? If everything goes well, tomorrow we have… tomorrow Dean will...”

She turned away but Sam knew that she was crying.

“Mary.” Castiel laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I promise that we’ll bring Dean back safely.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know. I know. It’s just...” She shook her head, burying it in her hand, like she was ashamed of her tears.

Biting his lip and feeling his eyes sting Sam embraced her from behind. He understood her all too well at this moment. This wasn’t about their plan, about them being close to saving Dean –  _their_ Dean – this was about...

“It’s okay, Mom. I’m tired too. Let’s go and sleep a few hours and then we’ll save Dean.”

He nodded at Cass and led Mary out of the kitchen.

Silently they walked next to each other until they reached the room Mary usually used, she smiled at him sadly and closed the door behind her.

Sam went to bed as well, but he couldn’t sleep; he was tired but his head just kept running like a hamster in a wheel.

After what could have been a few minutes or several hours he decided to give up on sleep for now and got up.

Maybe a good chat with the angel who never slept would help him calm down enough to quell his insomnia.

Or maybe another drink would do the job.

Slowly he walked through the hallway, passing the kitchen clock and realizing that it had been about two hours since he’d laid his head on his pillow, but before he reached the war room he heard a familiar voice and paused.

“No, no. That’s not what I said, Castiel.” It was his brother’s laughing voice. “I simply said that you have to be open to other things. Believe me, if you take a simple cucumber and put some molten honey on top, it tastes almost like a honeydew melon, but fresher. You can also caramelize it and sprinkle some wine on it. It’s awesome.”

The angel didn’t sound convinced. “I cannot imagine. Dean told me that there are some food rules you just have to follow, some things can be mixed and some simply shouldn’t.”

“Ugh, what lies did my doppelganger teach you?”

Their conversation sounded way too casual for two almost strangers.

“He’s actually a gifted cook and he always tells me that there is no situation ‘that won’t be improved by some delicious pie’.”

Other Dean laughed wholeheartedly. 

“Well, I agree with him on that.”

Sam leaned against the wall. He sounded so much like his brother.

For a moment there was silence.

“Oh man, I really missed this,” Other Dean sighed.

“So the Castiel of your world and you were friends?”

“You could say that.”

“And he died?”

The other one didn’t answer. But then he huffed. “The Dean Winchester here is some lucky bastard, you know that?”

Castiel remained silent.

Sam could hear the scraping of a chair, followed by heavy footsteps, the opening of a bottle and the sound of a liquid being poured into a glass.

“We could help you kill your Michael,” the angel offered. “You don’t need to do it alone. If you help us save Dean, I’m certain he would want that debt to be cleared as well.”

“No, Castiel. I need to do that alone. I’m the only one who can kill the Michael in my universe.”

“How come? Because of your grace?”

“Exactly. There are no other archangels left, no miracle powers and God hasn’t shown His face even once. So yes, I’m the only one capable of killing Michael.”

“But maybe we can find another way. Like you said, we are a strong team and we have profound resources to...”

“Castiel.” The other one sounded alarmingly calm. “I found peace with my fate a long time ago. I’m grateful to see this universe, to see that it doesn’t have to end up like mine and I feel like I know you, but you’re not him, you’re not _my_ Cass, and I’m not part of this world.”

“You could be.”

“No, I couldn’t. No world could survive two Dean Winchesters. It’s okay. This isn’t what I want, this isn’t my life. I can’t just drop in like we’ve all got history and you know that. All I want, all I have left to do is to kill Michael. I don’t care what it takes. I will do whatever I have to so that I can kill him. He’s my responsibility, my last job.”

Sam remained quiet, the tears welling up behind his closed eyelids. He didn’t want to hear his brother’s voice talking like that. It reminded him of when he was bearing the Mark of Cain and accepted his defeat to its power. It reminded him of when he had taken the bomb of souls into his body to overwhelm the darkness. It reminded him of when the clock had struck midnight and Dean had told him that it was alright, that he should keep fighting. 

“By the way, I’m sorry about your wings. Must be hard for you. Just looking at them hurts.”

The angel didn’t reply but there were more footsteps, and the sound of more glasses filling,

“When angels die...”Castiel’s voice was soft as a feather, “they find their eternal sleep in the nothingness.”

“Is this where you were after Lucifer killed you?”

“Yes, and that’s the place were my counterpart is right now and it will be the place Michael will go after you kill him and the place your soul will go when you die.”

Silence.

“It may sound frightening, but it’s a calm place, a peaceful place. You will find peace there, Dean Winchester. After years of struggling and fighting, you will be able to rest. There will be no more worries, no more pain, no more suffering. This is what I can promise you.”

“Well if you ask me, that sounds like heaven.”

Sam walked away, back to his room, back into his bed and he prayed, because he couldn’t think of what else to do.

 

He stood under the bridge of a forgotten highway, it was dark and it was cold, but neither bothered him.

The sky was crying, but that didn’t matter to him either as he pulled his jacket and shirt off. He took his time with each glove, carefully pried them away from his fingers like it was a dangerous task. Then he reached for the blessed knife in his boot. It was forged in holy fire and crafted with the most powerful spells. Sprinkling some holy water on it he started to whisper those words of an ancient language he had sworn never to use. Slowly, he lifted the now glowing knife towards the hiding sigil just above his left hip and gently drew two vertical lines, followed by the sign of the sine wave.

But except for a few drops of blood sticking to the blade the wound didn’t bleed, instead the sign started glowing just like the knife and the black, ink-like lines beneath started moving like snakes, they twisted and curled, pulling away from each other until the hiding sigil broke apart. The blank lines found new forms while an almost forgotten heat filled him. Within seconds the wound healed.

The hiding sigil was gone, leaving a small stretch of blank skin on his side.

It was a strange feeling; he had expected something else, he had expected it to feel greater, deeper, like he had moved the world a few inches, but as he put the knife back in his pocket, he didn’t feel any different at all now that the heat had vanished.

Although he was certain that he had done everything just right, he started to worry as he put his shirt and gloves back on. There was no sign of Michael. He closed his eyes. He had always been able to sense the Michael of his universe, they were connected through his grace, but not this Michael. This was actually the first time he realized that he _didn’t_ feel Michael anymore. He’d hated that connection for years but now that it was gone he almost felt lonely.

“And who are you?”

It was like looking into a funhouse mirror. Michael had shown at last.

“Obviously the one with the better taste. You look like you’re from a bad twenty’s movie. Seriously, that cap there, that’s so grandpa style, come on man, you’re gifted with such a nice face and then you decide to treat it like that.” He shook his head. “That’s just sad.”

“Well, I’m not sure if a man in a turtleneck should lecture me about fashion.”

“So that’s not the reason you showed up?”

Michael tilted his head slightly.

“We both know why I’m here. You’re not from this universe, are you?”

“Aren’t you a smart one?”

“You’re pretty cocky, given that you’re at my mercy.”

“Oh, am I?”

They stared at each other.

“I know that you didn’t show up here for real, Michael. Your sweet little astral projection might be enough to fool normal human eyes, but we both know that I ain’t normal. With this you might be able to touch me, but none of your mighty mojo is gonna do a damn thing.”

“So? Did you really expect me to show up? I know enough about this one and more than enough about basic war tactics to spot a trap. Why else would you willingly destroy your warding?”

They smirked at each other. They actually looked almost the same, the angel seemed to have passed him by a few years and they wore their hair differently, but that was about it.

“If this were a trap, Michael, wouldn’t you already be under attack right now? Where are the angel traps? And where is the hunter, whose brother you’re wearing?”

Dean could see the distrust in the other one’s face.

“We both know that even that bitch-witch isn’t powerful enough to suppress the force of several sigils as well as a human and an angel and whatever else they would have come up with. It’s just you and me, oh and the other me you’re in of course.”

The archangel took a look around, apparently verifying the information.

“Fine, just the two of us then. What for? Why did you call me?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Dean asked instead of answering and grinned wider.  
“Well, you appear to have broad knowledge of this universe, so I assumed that Sam Winchester brought you here to help him fight me, am I mistaken?”

“Nope, totally right.”  
“Yet we are here. Care to explain?”

Slowly Dean folded his arms.  
“As you can probably guess I have some trouble with the Michael of my universe. I wanna kill him. But that’s difficult. You know, the usual problems: all other archangels are dead, no sign of God, no other powerful creatures, and on top of that he collected all archangel blades and forged himself a nice little sword, you see, the ‘Michael Sword’.”

He rolled his eyes as he drew quotation marks into the air.

“But the thing is, I really need to kill that guy, so I really need a damn archangel blade. That’s why I came here, to get me my little toy.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Okay, look, you and I, we could fight of course, but why? I just want to go back home and we never have to meet again, but the thing is that this hunter will only give me the blade he has after I save his brother and kill you.”

Now Michael folded his arms as well.

“So?”

“So, truth be told, their plan is bullshit. I mean, I’ve done some risky things in my life, but they’re desperate. Even winning the lottery in my world would be easier and there ain’t no lottery. My issue is, I don’t like losing, and if I compare both sides... they don’t stand a chance.”

“So you want to betray them?”

Dean waved that aside.  
“Oh come on, don’t make it sound that way. It’s not like this hunter and I are buddies or even brothers in arms. He simply has something I want and I don’t care how I get it in my hands.”

“For example?”

“For example, working with you. I don’t need anything from you. All I want is that after we kill that hunter and his precious friends, I get their archangel blade and we force that witch to open another rift into my universe. We say adios and never see each other again. I can kill my Michael for good and you can do whatever the hell you want.”

The angel was silent for a moment.

“And why would I work with you? I don’t need you. None of them are threats to me. I don’t need help killing a single human.”

Dean chuckled slightly.

“Well if that was true, why haven’t you done it already? You’re here for like three months or so, plenty of time. Lucky for you I was possessed by my Michael once too, so I can guess what your issue is. Isn’t it that whenever you think about killing that hunter’s brother or his little angel that he starts throwing a tantrum? Now I know me and I’m good at tantrums, strong, at times, even strong enough to take control. But you need to kill them in order to break your suit’s mind. Believe me, I know best.”

The archangel tilted his head in the other direction.

“So you offer to kill them for me. Why? Why don’t you just kill them, take the blade and off you go?”

Dean sighed. 

“Yeah, you know, I would’ve done that. The thing is, I can’t do anything against that witch; her counterpart put that spell on me and she made damn sure that I can’t harm her, there’s no way I can make her open that rift so I need you to convince her.”

“You want to double-cross Sam Winchester with my help to get that blade?”

“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. I like to place my bets on the winning side. And you know that this hunter will never stop searching for you, he and his friends won’t stop until they find you and that’s the thing, they have ways to trap even you, like they did with Lucifer, and even if not, all they need is to get close enough to expel you. They are good, Michael, you know that they are a threat. But I don’t have the time for their little games. So are you in?”

The archangel made a step towards him.

“And what if you’re trying to set me up? How do I know that I’m not the next one you’ll betray?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you want from me? We both know that I can’t kill you and like I said, I’m not interested in that either. All I want is that blade.”

“You’re right, you can’t kill me. But I’ve become fond of this nice suit and like you said, even if I’m only close to them once, they can take it away from me, so I need reassurance, I need a backup vessel.”

Dean narrowed his eyes as the angel continued.

“Of course, I won’t settle for less. This is the perfect vessel, my sword, why would I risk it if you can’t give me something in return?”

Dean gritted his teeth.

“No!”

“Then we have no deal.”

The archangel turned around.

“It was nice talking to you, Dean Winchester of another universe. Good luck with getting your blade and thanks for the heads-up, now I know not to come when you call again.”

Dean clenched his fists, barely able to breath.

“Wait a second!” He yelled and Michael turned around slowly.

“For what?”

“Okay, okay fine! When they try to lure you out I’ll destroy my anti-possession sigil, so that in case their plan works, you can come into my body.”

His heart raced.

“But this ain’t a permanent deal, you got that? Only until you force that Dean to say yes again. I won’t be your puppet.”

Michael smiled satisfied.

“Deal. We can make it work like that. It’s not like I would like to run around in an abomination like you anyways and I like my current suit.”

Dean couldn’t hold the archangel’s eyes as he stepped closer.

“But I don’t want to risk a change of heart, Dean Winchester. So say it, open the door for me and we have a deal.”

He couldn’t look up as he spit the words out.

“I give you my word, if you have to leave your current vessel, you can have me. I… I say ‘yes’.”  
They shook hands and Michael’s smile grew.

“Very well. And now that you’ve betrayed your new friends, tell me, what’s their plan?”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> the day has finally come, the second-last chapter and finally Sam and the others will take on Michael, or will they?
> 
> Hope you have a great time reading.
> 
> Sharry

Chapter 5

 

“It’s alright boys, take your time. It’s not like any of us have more important things to do.”

“If you helped us, we would be done by now,” Castiel muttered, as he, Sam, and Other Dean were all kneeling on the ground, drawing different warding symbols on the ground with holy chalk.

“And muss my pretty dress? Oh no, tweety pie. Do you have any idea how difficult it is nowadays to get such quality?”

Rowena was standing few feet away from them, next to a tiny, old wooden desk where she was preparing her spells. She sighed deeply, “And how come we always have to use abandoned churches for things like this? Why, for once, can’t we occupy the spa room of a nice hotel?”

Sam straightened himself up and brushed the chalk dust off his jeans.

“Stop whining, witch.” Other Dean got up as well. “So how’re we doing?” he asked, looking around, Sam did the same.

The whole church was covered. It had taken them the whole day but it looked like they were finally done.

At last Cass stood up as well. His trench coat covered with smudges of chalk. His narrowed eyes regarded Other Dean.

“I still doubt that this will work,” he said.

“And I still think that this is our best shot,” Other Dean replied with an annoyed grunt. “I’m pretty sure it’ll work.”

“How sure?” Rowena asked in between adding various herbs to a wooden bowl.

“Like, let’s say...” Other Dean rocked his head in thoughts, pursing his lips, “about sixty-five percent.”

The angel huffed.

“Come on, guys.” Sam walked between them and lifted both hands as a calming gesture. “We all agreed. It’s too late to change the plan now.”  
“Well,” Rowena threw in, looking away, “we haven’t done anything yet so we could still drop everything and leave.”

“No!” Sam turned towards her. “No. We’re sticking to the plan. We’ve gone on less before and if he says he’s sure...” He nodded towards Other Dean without finishing his sentence.

“Fine, fine. I just don’t want to end up dead because of that madman.” Rowena sniped, continuing with her spell.

“Good, then I’ll check the back before we get started.” Said madman commented with a quick eye-roll before walking off.

“Sam.” Cass reached out for the taller man and led him a few strides away from the redhead with a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful with him. Just because he looks like Dean doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. He’s _not_ your brother.”

Confused, Sam squinted at him. Of course he knew, just a means to an end, he was very much aware.  
“I know, Cass. Why are you saying that? I don’t trust him at all.”  
His friend tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you certain? You accepted his suggestions rather easily and I’m not as sure as he is that this plan will actually work. If he decides to betray us, there’s nothing we can do against him _and_ Michael.”

Castiel was still whispering, but his tone had become more urgent.

“Cass, he has no reason to betray us, besides, he _can’t_ ; we’re the only way for him to get that blade and to get back into his universe and he will do whatever it takes to kill the Michael of his world.”

“And that’s exactly what worries me,” the angel mumbled but before Sam could reassure him Rowena coughed with ostentation.

They turned around as Other Dean showed up again, walking right in the middle of a fully filled white circle of chalk.  
“Okay everything’s set up. I say let's get this party started.” He showed half a grin.

“You’re quite eager to meet the archangel you hate so much,” Castiel commented.

“Oh, I’m quite eager to kick some archangel’s ass,” Other Dean corrected him.

“Whatever. I am ready boys. Shall I start?”, Rowena interrupted.

Her eyes were placed on Sam, making i t clear that she was not listening to anybody else.

“You’re sure you can handle it?” He insured.

She smiled her grand smile and raised an eyebrow, while opening her arms.

“Oh Samuel, You have seen what I can do and you still doubt my abilities? I’m hurt.”

“Enough of this, witch. Start working!”

She rolled her eyes at the other man’s comment.  
“I don’t believe that I’m actually saying this, but Samuel, I cannot wait to retrieve your brother.”

With those words she threw some tiny piece of burning herbs into her bowl and started chanting in an ancient language.

The sigils disappeared, like they had never been there, and then Sam watched first Castiel and then Rowena including her wooden desk disappear as well, before he found himself on the other side, nodding at them.

“Okay guys.” His brother’s copy looked in his general direction. “Looks good as far as I can tell. I’ll be starting then.”

Not waiting for a reply the stranger started undressing. 

“As far as I’m concerned he can keep that shirt off,” the witch next to Sam commented.

“Rowena,” Castiel warned.

“What? It’s not like he can hear us.”

By now Other Dean was standing there topless and ripped his gloves off. 

He turned in their direction before bending down and pulling a silver knife out of his bootleg.

“You might wanna pay attention to my spell, witch. Suggestions for improvements would be appreciated.”

She sighed slightly.

“Why does he seem so much more charming when he’s topless.”

The angel huffed slightly and rolled his eyes.

The man in front of him started chanting words similar to the language the witch had just used, sprinkling some holy water on the knife, which started glowing.

“He is not bad,” the redhead next to Sam admitted.

“You’re just distracted,” Cass said dryly.

The stranger placed the knife on a sign right above his heart, drew, almost gently, two vertically lines followed by a waving line. The wound didn’t bleed but started glowing as well, at the exact moment those black lines started moving.

Within seconds the sigil was ripped apart, leaving a spot of free, untainted skin.

“Done,” the other man explained and started to put his shirt back on, which was accompanied by the redhead’s sigh.

“Cass,” Sam mumbled, “if he were to break every sigil on his body, could he ever return to being normal?”

It was a question he had in his head since the very time this man had explained that he could simply remove his hiding warding with a spell.

“No,” the angel answered, resolute. “This warding is nothing more than spells he was able to perform because of his transformation and that transformation is irreversible.”

The witch nodded in agreement. 

“My counterpart didn’t only change his very being, she taught him how to use those powers to the fullest.” She actually sounded impressed. “They way he is now, there are few beings he can’t compete with.”

“Not quite reassuring,” Cass muttered.

“Man, this angelic dick is sure taking his sweet time,” Other Dean commented, not being part of their conversation, as he leaned against the back of a bench and clicked his tongue several times. “I’m not much of a patient type.”

“How surprising,” the witch said sarcastically, now much less friendly than before.

“Hey, hunter.” For a second Sam could’ve sworn that Other Dean was actually staring right at him. “If I’m wrong and this goes dark side, do me a favor.” He turned towards the grand double gate again. “Never go into another universe again just to save that lucky bastard’s ass.”

Suddenly the door flung open and a cold wind hustled through the moldered church, chalk dust and rustling papers whirled upwards, blurring Sam’s view but invisible for the newcomer who entered.

With every step he made, another long-forgotten candle-holder lit up, casting shadows over him and the church. The light of several tiny flames reflected in his eyes and it broke Sam’s heart.  
Castiel leaned forward next to him, almost stumbling towards the newcomer, softly whispering his name.

Sam slammed a hand over his own mouth as he gasped for air, just to make sure that the stranger would really not hear him.

For the first time in months he saw his brother, not a copy, not a counterpart, but Dean, his Dean.

Still, it was easy to see, that this man in front of him wasn’t his brother. His posture was stiff and confident, his smile was more a smirk, his eyes commanding and dead. 

In complete silence he walked down the aisle of benches, straight towards Other Dean, who was grinning as well, but his face looked twisted, almost like a grimace. None of them said anything as Michael came closer and closer until he walked finally past the last row of benches.

He paused.

“You called me.”

Michael wasn’t asking, he wasn’t even wondering. There was no insecurity, no trace of hesitation.

“And you came,” Other Dean answered.

The right corner of his mouth twitched as he folded his arms.

“What are you waiting for, Rowena?” Castiel hissed.

“Are you some loggerhead, tweety?” She whispered back. “He isn’t in the trap yet. If Michael doesn’t make another step I can’t lift the spell.”

Sam held a small knife in his hands.

“We have no way to tell him,” he commented through gritted teeth. “We just need to trust him that he can pull Michael forward.”

“ _Trust him_ ,” Cass repeated, scoffing.

“Another Dean Winchester.” The archangel’s voice was clear as a bell. “How interesting, you know, there wasn’t _one_ of these in my universe, but here there are two.”

He took a surveying gaze through the church.

“Speechless?” Other Dean asked snickering, winking in Sam’s general direction. “Don’t worry pal, I get you. I feel the same way every time I look into a mirror.”

“I should go,” the angel replied.

“But you won’t.” Other Dean seemed quite confident, but his false grin showed easily that it was nothing more than an act.

“I won’t?”  
“You wouldn’t have shown up in the first place if there wasn’t something you wanted.”

Both men looked at each other.  
“And what would that be?” The archangel asked almost innocent.

“Me.” Other Dean’s voice sounded rough, almost husky, but he never broke the eye contact with Michael.

“Is that so?” The archangel made a step forward. “Do you really believe I would be interested in an abomination like you?”

“Rowena, now!” Sam commanded.

“I’m not here to take you, no. You might be able to blend in with other humans, but we both know that you’re far from being one. You stained your very soul, my father’s creation.”

Michael made another step forward.

The woman next to Sam started chanting in her ancient language.  
“I shall punish you for your sins. I don’t want you, I am here to take your life and save what’s left of your miserable soul.”

“I don’t think so!” Sam yelled and made the archangel turn, not even the slightest surprise in his face. But Sam didn’t care as he sliced the palm of his hand open and slammed it against the sigil on the wall behind him.

At the very same time Castiel lit up the circle of holy oil inside of the angel trap.

This was all it took to activate the angel suppressing sigil.

For a moment Sam stared at the trapped man in front of him, could see his eyes growing large, his cheeks becoming pale.

All those months Sam had waited for this moment, he had everything he needed but he hadn’t been able to find Michael, to catch him, and now it seemed like it was almost too easy, in a few seconds he would be able to talk to his brother again, in a few seconds Dean would be able to reject Michael.

But suddenly the surprised expression left the archangel’s face and was replaced by a wide grin.

“You cannot beat me, Sam Winchester.” He laughed loudly, his voice echoing from the hollow walls. “Your little tricks can’t do anything to me!”

Sam gulped heavily over his brother’s haunting voice.

“Are you sure?” He asked despite the growing fear. “What about this little trick?”

He pulled the hyperbolic pulse generator out from the depths of the duffle bag over his shoulder, held it towards his own brother and recited the short Latin phrase he needed to exorcise the archangel in front of him.

“This as well will not work on...”

The archangel choked on his own breath and writhed as the generator cast a huge pulse of pure white energy, embracing and engulfing the trapped man, surrounding him until there was nothing left to see than the rough dark silhouette within the blinding light.

The holy fire and the candles died instantly as the unbelievable force exploded outwards.

Sam had to avert his eyes from the glare, even with closed eyes the sheer power stabbed like thousand little needles under his skin.

He could hear Cass next to him shout for his brother and Rowena mumbling something that could have been a prayer if she were the praying type.

As the pain lessened Sam dared to open his eyes again, just in time to see the cloud of white light emerging from the energy around the body. And, as suddenly as the energy had appeared, it was gone, leaving nothing behind but a collapsing man.

“Dean!”

Sam rushed forward, catching his falling brother, dropping to his knees in the middle of the angel’s trap.

The older man was safely in his lap, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling.

“Dean!”

Castiel was next to him, down on his knees as well.

“Cass?” Sam hissed questioning, asking his friend what he had no words for.

The angel nodded in silent agreement as he reached forward and touched the unconscious man’s forehead.

His loud relieved sigh was almost enough for Sam to break down, but Castiel’s words made the tears stream down his face.

“It’s him, Sam. It’s Dean. He’s alright, his body is strained, he’s battered, but his soul is intact. He will be fine.”

“Oh God!” Sam couldn’t help but bury his head in his brother’s chest.

“I did what I could,” Cass continued, “but I cannot tell how long it will take for him to wake up.”

“So this is it?”, Rowena asked. “We did it?”

“It seems so,” Sam answered, pure joy filling his body as he held his unconscious brother. After months of despair, of hopelessness, after months of searching, of praying, after months of not giving up, he had his brother back, he had finally been able to save him.

He looked up, his eyes met Castiel’s as the angel showed a gentle smile and nodded silently.

“Well, after all those discussions last night, this seemed rather easy,” the witch commented lightly, “not that I’m complaining.”

“Not so fast.”  
It was Dean Winchester’s voice, dark and looming from behind them.

Still holding his brother in his arms, Sam stared over to Other Dean, who stood just a few feet away, arms spread wide open and head bend over, but only for half a moment.

Still standing in the chalk circle his eyes lit up bright blue as he straightened up. Suddenly the candles flared back to life and the doors burst open again, the shadows of wings spreading behind him, engulfing the entire back wall of the church.

“Oh no, not again,” the witch sighed dramatically.

“You pitiful fools!” The archangel’s voice drowned her complaint easily. “Did you really believe you could outsmart me with some little spells and a golden egg?” He laughed.

“Did you really think I would come here unprepared, just so you could play your little game? I knew from the beginning what you were up to and look where it got you. You got your brother back!”

He started clapping very slowly.

“Congratulations! Well done, you can be proud of yourselves. Aren’t you happy?”

“Oh dear, you archangels and your monologuing. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”

It was the witch, who made a step forward, holding the hyperbolic pulse generator in her right hand.

“If you want to survive, you’ve got to side with the Winchesters!”  
For the second time the bright light embraced the archangel.

But this time he didn’t falter, this time he didn’t hunch down. Instead he started laughing as the light died out, the black ink-like lines glowing in the same bright blue as the archangel’s eyes, shining right through the clothes he was wearing.

“Your little toy might work on normal vessels, but not on me, not anymore.”

His laugh was growing dry and maddened. 

“You see, this is not only my true vessel, my Michael sword, this one here is filled with power, energy, grace. The sigils my suit used to strengthen his body, will now protect me from any magic you might use. Face it, before I was the most powerful being, but now, now I am invincible.”

Out of nothing, an archangel’s blade appeared in his hand. Michael bowed deeply in front of them. 

“You have my gratitude, without you I would have never accomplished this and as an acknowledgment, I will save your souls. Rejoice, for your savior has… Urgh!”  
He stumbled forward, falling on his knees at the edge of the chalk circle, a hand pressed onto his chest. The blade rolling away.

“I really hate when men underestimate the power of a woman.”

Rowena made another step towards him.

“You thought you could see through my spell? Oh, who’s the pitiful fool now?”

She turned away, raising her arms towards the ceiling.

“I allowed you to perceive exactly what I wanted you to! Samuel, the angel, me, the warding! This was my choice, not yours!”

Sam still held his brother, kneeling on the ground. He wouldn’t let go of Dean, keeping him safe within the angel trap. Castiel stood half a step in front of them, protecting them, guarding them as best he could.

“You forgot that I am the most powerful witch to walk this earth and in addition I could channel the power of your current vessel. You’re not the invincible one, deary!”

The archangel was still kneeling on the ground, coughing, the tip of an archangel blade protruding from his torso.

Behind him stood Jack, a stern yet halting facial expression.

The angel on the ground stopped coughing and started laughing instead.

Slowly he stood up.

“A nephilim,” he whispered, “a powerless nephilim was your back-up plan?”

Michael tried to grab the blade in his back, but was unable to reach it.

He huffed, slightly annoyed.

“In case you weren’t aware: Lucifer took almost all of your grace. In that other suit you would have been able to kill me. But in _this_ one, the only thing that can kill me is another archangel.”

A sudden wind started within the church, whirling chalk and dust upwards in swirling gusts.

Sam stared, not at the archangel, but past him, watching Jack hurriedly stumbling backwards, eyes widening with fear.

Finally, Michael was able to pull the blade out of his back with a grunt.

“So, nephilim. You dared to flaw my new suit, therefore, you will pay first.”

He turned around for the youngster, but paused for a second, sneering and tilting his head.

“I wasn’t aware you were here as well, Mary Winchester. Witness as I take from you all you ever cared for. I’ll start with this bold protégé, then I’ll take care of those two redheads – just for kicks – afterwards, Castiel of course and then...” He stepped forward. “Then I will let you choose which son first.”

Mary and Charlie next to her were standing a few feet behind Jack, holding a portable wind machine.

“Yeah? Try it,” she growled.

The archangel started forwards but slammed into an invisible wall. He stared down.

The once fully filled chalk circle had been transformed into another circle of sigils.

“Another trap,” he growled and looked up again. “Some chalk and glue!” His voice grew louder. “How long do you think this will hold me? Half a minute, maybe one?”

“Long enough!”

Cass stalked towards the archangel, fetching the blade Michael had lost from the ground, a fierce look in his eyes.

“Long enough for you to die?!” The laughing, confident archangel was long gone, replaced by anger, by uncertainty.

He was loud, yelling, baring his teeth almost like an animal.

“Looking for suicide, Castiel? Then come here, come at me! I’ll make it quick and I’ll be gracious, you won’t have to see your friends die.”

“They are my family,” the angel gritted his teeth.

“Including me, I hope,” Rowena threw in.

“So I will save them,” the angel continued.

Michael scoffed dryly. “You can’t! You’re no match against me! You’re just some low-level angel, hell, you’re barely even that...”

“You’re right,” Castiel agreed and stepped at the edge of the trap. “A seraph is no match against you.”

He put a hand in the pocket of his coat and pulled a necklace out of it.

“But as you said, it’s not the status of an archangel that makes you superior. It’s the grace.”

For the very first time Michael looked scared.

“Impossible,” he hissed. “Even with that, you won’t be an archangel, you won’t be able to kill me.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Castiel opened the vile.

“Wait a second,” the archangel insisted, holding his blade in front of him. “What about the vessel? You’re willing to kill a human, father’s creation?”

“You cannot escape Michael. You will die, right now, right here. Do you believe bargaining with me about the life of an already doomed abomination will save you? After you killed my brothers and sisters, after you took Dean?”

“Tze.” Michael clicked his tongue and made a step away, suddenly a subtle grin on his lips.

“You know what? I’m not in the mood.”

“Too bad, you can’t run, Michael, you can’t hide.”

Castiel stepped into the circle.

“Wrong!”

Before the angel was able to do anything else, the archangel ripped his right glove off and pressed his hand against his chest, burning through fabric, burning through skin.

“Tell Dean Winchester I will be back for him. He’s the one who cannot run, he’s the one who cannot hide.”

Within a heartbeat the man in the angel trap emanated pure white light.

“No!” But Castiel was too late.

A lifeless body fell to the ground, the light was gone, Michael had vanished. The candles burned out.

Dean Winchester was dead, maybe not the Dean in Sam’s arms, but still…  _a means to an end_ .

Nobody said anything, silently Castiel turned away from the body on the ground and walked towards Sam, handing him the vial as well as the archangel’s blade and picking Dean up from Sam’s lap, like he was a s  light as a feather. He looked at Sam, grim, exhausted.

Slowly Sam stood up, together they walked towards the fallen man.

In a circle all present people stood around Dean Winchester.

Heavy silence filled the air.

“So is it over?” Jack was the first to break the silence.

“No,” Castiel answered, burdened. “Michael escaped. I was too slow.”

“True,” Rowena agreed as she snatched the vial out of Sam’s hand. “Still, we might not have ended the war, but this battle we won.” Her voice was softer than before.

Mary walked over to Castiel, caressing her recovered son’s cheek for a moment, not saying a word.

Sam stared at his not-brother on the ground, the wound on the back was deep, right through the heart. It was still hard for him to accept that this man, almost his brother, had been ready to go this far just to help them.

“So what now?” It was Charlie, who asked the question.

“Now,” he answered in a dry voice, “now we wait for...”

Loud coughing interrupted him.

The fatally stabbed man in front of them coughed and panted, rolling himself on the back, presenting his half-naked chest under the burned shirt, his skin not having a single scratch.

“For this,” Sam finished his sentence.

“Jeez,” the dead man laying on the ground groaned, “I never get used to dying. Did you at least kill him?”

Other Dean didn’t even bother to get up.

“No,” Castiel answered rueful. “He expelled himself out of your body with the help of your warding.”

“Really?” The man on the ground sat himself up and whistled. “Not bad, for a son of a bitch. Can’t believe he figured it out that fast.”

“I can’t believe this sorry excuse of a plan actually worked,” Rowena commented.

“I’m sorry for killing you.” Jack helped Other Dean to get up.

“Nah, it’s alright, kiddo. Not my first ride down and back and certainly won’t be my last.”

“Speaking of, this belongs to you.” Sam handed him the archangel blade.

Almost humbled, Other Dean took it before looking up.

“But Michael isn’t dead, he’s still up and kicking.”

Sam showed half a smile while shaking his head.

“Our deal wasn’t to kill Michael. You promised to save my brother. Well, I think he’s safe.”

He nodded towards Dean in Castiel’s arms.

“I don’t want to be indebted to you. You get the blade, we open the rift, and we help you with everything we can.”

Other Dean pursed his lips and looked away.

“Oh darn, this ain’t good.”

“What?” Mary asked cautious.

“Well, now I feel almost sorry for not having a little brother.”

He laughed slightly, his cheeks glowing slightly pink, and starred at the weapon in his hand.

“But that’s alright, after all I got this.”

For the first time his smile seemed honest.  
“Now I can finally kill Michael.”

“But if you kill Michael won’t you kill yourself?” Jack asked innocent. “Aren’t you connected? As long as he lives, you can’t die, but the moment he dies...”

Other Dean smiled almost gentle at the youngster.

“Believe me kiddo, that’s exactly the plan.”

“How come you suck so much at plans?” Sam mumbled, trying to lighten the mood but failing to ease the throbbing pain in his chest.

“Why don’t we stop worrying about my universe and concentrate on this one?” Other Dean grinned wider and sheathed the archangel blade in his right bootleg before standing straight again, hands on hips.

“Who wants pizza?”


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it!  
> The last chapter of my first Supernatural-multichapter-fic.  
> I hope you enjoyed it and I want to deeply thank my awesome beta for her work and every single person, who was kind enough to leave a comment or a kudo.
> 
> I had a great time writing this and might come back again soon.
> 
> Greetings  
> Sharry

Chapter 6

 

Harshly, he drew in some air.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?”

Other Dean tilted his head with a half smile and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Believe me, hunter. I’ve been in this alone all the way, I’ll manage the last few steps, don’t worry.” He winked at Sam.

“Boys, I’m ready.”

Rowena was standing close by, a bowl of herbs in her hand, the vial with archangel grace in the other one.

Sam gulped heavily.

“Listen, I think...”

“Open the rift, would you?”

Other Dean turned for the witch, interrupting Sam easily.

Rowena lifted an eyebrow but did as she was told.

“I tell you what.” The man who looked like his brother stared straight ahead. “Since I was very, very little, I always wondered how my life would have been, if my little baby brother Sammy hadn’t died before he was born.”

He huffed slightly.

“Well, you guys went through hell, quite literally, so you might disagree but I’m really glad this universe exists.”

Sam didn’t know what to say.

“This world isn’t too bad after all, and I finally got the chance to meet you, Sam.”

For the first time he really saw his brother looking back at him. It was disconcerting to say the least.  
“You should stay until Dean wakes up,” Castiel suggested after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. The angel had been reluctant to leave Dean’s room but had agreed to come and say goodbye to Other Dean.

“Nah.” Other Dean shook his head. “It’s better for the both of us if we don’t meet face to face. I’d probably just punch him for saying yes to Michael.”

The rift opened in front of them, it was the same light yellow like the last time Sam had seen it.

“But you could do me favor.” He handed Sam a piece of paper that had been folded so many times is was barely bigger than a postage stamp. “Give this to your brother.”

He gripped Sam’s arm, a genuine, if not exactly happy, smile on his lips.

“I’ve only been here a few days, but if your Dean is anything like you two, together you’ll be able to kill Michael without giving up your humanity.”

“What about you?” Sam mumbled, clasping the other man’s forearm in the way warriors did. It was a symbol of a final goodbye, a mutual knowledge that they wouldn’t cross paths again.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he grinned, “I’ll be fine.”

Castiel shook his head. “You’re lying.”

Other Dean took a long moment to regard the angel, his smile growing softer.

“Has nobody ever told you, Castiel? Humans lie.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. They lie to get what they want and because that’s the way you become president.”

Other Dean laughed slightly, his eyes drinking in the angel for another moment, before he turned towards the rift.

“That’s only part of the truth. Humans lie to get what they want, and to protect what they treasure.”

He raised an arm.

“So long.”

And then he was gone.

Sam’s throat felt dry.

“Although he was a nerve-wrenching, pesky brute,” Rowena mumbled as the rift disappeared, “somehow, I have this hollow feeling in my chest seeing him leave like this.”

Cass nodded. “That’s called sorrow, Rowena, a human emotion you might remember from older times.”

“Guys, no fighting, not right now.”

Sam turned away and walked out of the library.

There was nothing he could do for the Dean Winchester of that other universe, Other Dean had chosen an inexorable fate long ago. Even if he could find some crazy way to save him, Sam wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to be saved.

So there was nothing Sam could do for him, but there was something he could do for this Dean Winchester – his brother – he could be there for him. Over the past few hours he had vowed that he would never abandon his brother again, because it was just as Dean had once said, they kept each other human and now Sam knew for certain that staying human was the best option both of them had.

He entered Dean’s room. Mary was curled up on one of the chairs next to his bed, asleep.

As he gently closed the door she started awake. It only took him few words to convince her to go to bed. Now that Dean was safe, it was easier for her to see to her own needs. She embraced Sam for a short moment before she left and he held her tight.

It felt like the first time in months that they actually shared physical contact and just now Sam realized how much he had missed her and had needed her.

It was enough to give him back the strength he had just lost.

Two minutes later he found himself in the same chair his mom had just vacated, just an arm-length away from his brother, who was still unconscious, looking like he was sleeping.

By now, his body showed the aftereffects of being possessed by Michael for months. His skin was pale, almost grayish, his cheeks and eyes sunken in, accompanied by dark circles.

Cass said he would be fine, that those were the minor side effects of an archangel’s possession for that long, according to the angel, it wasn’t the physical effects that they had to worry about, that he would be good as new within a couple of days, but a word of warning that there was no way to tell how extensively his mind had been affected..

Right now, Sam couldn’t do anything else but to wait, so that was what he did, he waited for his brother to wake up again.

 

***

 

A silent groan fought its way through his throat.

He felt like he’d been hit by a bus. His whole body hurt, a deep pain, like every single muscle had been torn, every single fiber had been overstretched, like he had been shot from inside.

He knew pain, maybe not this one exactly, but he was used to it.

He huffed slightly thinking about all the kinds of pain he had been through during his life; compared to that he was fine, compared to those things he was simply exhausted.

Exhausted like he had been running for days without stopping, without sleeping or eating.

It already took most of his strength to simply open his eyes.

Maybe he should take another nap, but now that his eyes were finally open, it seemed even harder to let them fall closed again.

It took his sight a second to become clear. He looked at the ceiling of the room and recognized the ugly stucco patterns, he was in the bunker.

Well, at least there was that, he had no idea what had happened to get him there, or why he was here, not even talking about why he was feeling like crap, but at least he was in the bunker, at least he was at home.

After laying there for several minutes, gathering his strength, he decided he was ready for the next step.

Breathing in and bracing himself he tensed his burning muscles and pushed himself into a sitting position.

It was ridiculous how draining this little movement was, he was already panting, like he had been running from hellhounds.

But then his attention was drawn from his throbbing body to the weight on his legs.

Sam was sitting beside his bed, his upper body curled forwards onto his legs, obviously asleep.

Dean couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t remember what had happened, why he was in bed, but his brother had been by his side, making sure he was okay.

His little brother Sammy, looking out for him. Slowly he shook his head.

Despite the pain he felt, the overflowing joy surprised him more. Everything within him burst with relief feeling his brother’s weight on him, solid and _real_ , being somewhere familiar and safe.

It was such a great feeling, so powerful. He felt happy, happy beyond reasoning and he didn’t even know why.

Still, even that didn’t matter, Sammy was here, he was fine.

And in true older-brother fashion, he leaned forward and slapped his brother lightly across the back of his head.  
“Uah! What… Who?”

He tried his best not to laugh – mainly because it hurt his aching ribs – while his brother jumped into a half-sitting half-standing position, turning into every direction, his hair flying wild from one side to another.

“Heya Sammy.”

“Dean!”

His brother stared at him in awe, then he rushed forward, almost crawling onto the bed and hugging him so tight his ribs cracked.

“Finally, you’re awake!”

“Sammy… you’re crushing… me.” He had a hard time breathing.

“Oh yeah, of course.”  
Sam let go of him and leaned back a little, now sitting on the edge of the bed.

It was easy to see that he had been crying, that he was at the verge of crying at this very moment.

His powerful hug was still imprinted into every sore muscle.

Sam was grinning like a fool.

“What’s gotten into you?” Dean asked, breathless. “You almost crushed me to death just now.”

His younger brother laughed slightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re up and talking.”

A single tear dripped down, scaring Dean more than any monster could.

“Sammy?” Confused he tilted his head. “How long was I out?”

Now he noted what he had missed before; it was true that his brother looked worn out, he was thinner than Dean remembered, dark circles under his eyes and he had grown a scruffy beard. How long had he been asleep? Had he been cursed by a witch, by Rowena? What had happened?  
“Uhm, for about, I guess almost two days. We didn’t know when you would wake up?”

“Two days?” he shook his head. “You wouldn’t be this worried, dude, I’ve had blackout hangovers that lasted longer than two days before.”  
It took all his strength to stay in a sitting position, talking was difficult. Dean couldn’t resist the urge to slump back against the wall behind him.

“You can’t grow a beard in two days. I wasn’t even sure you could grow one at all.”

Sam was about to reply, stopped himself by first biting and the pursing his lips, before looking at Dean again.

“I’m just gonna ignore that,” he mumbled. But then he leaned forward. “Dean, don’t you remember?”

Dean wanted to lean forward as well, but his body was too heavy.

“Remember what?” This question worried him more than his brother’s beard.

“What happened.”

“Errr...”

“You remember nothing? Michael? Lucifer?”

As Sam started talking the memories came back, at first slowly, but then an overwhelming deluge.

He remembered, not only the fight with Lucifer, not only how Michael had betrayed him – which he had kind of expected if he were totally honest – but also what happened afterwards, what Michael did, what Michael made him do. How he watched with his own eyes how his hands killed innocent and villain alike. He remembered how he had fought every damn second, but how he had never been able to regain control. He remembered how Michael had teased him about killing the people dear to him. He remembered the other angels, scared and dying and he remembered his spitting image in front of him. He remembered this man who looked like him, laughing at him, at Michael, remembered Michael’s voice in his head, every word he had said, every idea he had thought, every image he had seen or thought of, he remembered everything.

A nausea grew within him.

“Dean? Dean!” Sam shook his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Wa… water…,” was all he was able to manage.

“Sure, just a second!”

He could hear Sam stumbling across the floor, knocking something over. The room started spinning as he heard the faucet turn on.

“Here, here you go.” Sam rushed back, handing him the filled glass, water droplets sliding down the outside.

Dean gulped it down in one go, holding up the empty glass, just now realizing how thirsty he was, thirsty like parched, like close to death thirsty.

Sam refilled his glass several times, until he finally felt like he could stop.

Breathing heavily he leaned back against the wall, traces of water running down his chin and throat.

“Better?” Sam asked, obviously worried.

Dean nodded, weak.

“Cass said it might take you a few days to get your strength back. Your body is pretty worn.”

“No kidding,” he mumbled and closed his eyes for a moment.

“You want to sleep? I can go, if you want.”

“No,” Dean shook his head and opened his eyes.

“I need to talk to this other me.” He remembered him, remembered how he bargained with Michael, and he remembered how he had said yes to Michael.

Sam bit his lips.

“He’s gone. He went back into his universe shortly after we came back to the bunker.”

“Then I have to follow him!”

He tried to throw away the blanket covering him but Sam grabbed his wrist.

“Dean.” He was quiet. “He went back and I don’t think you can follow him where he went.”

For a moment Dean narrowed his eyes, before he let got of the blanket.

“But he gave me this for you.”

Sam pulled a folded piece of paper out of his jacket and held it up to him.

“Don’t know what it is though.”  
Dean took it and started to unfold it. It turned out to be multiple sheets of written pages.

For a moment he stared at the very first lines, before folding the papers again and placing them next to his pillow.

“What an idiot,” he mumbled.

“What is it?”, Sam asked.

“Advice about how to pimp up baby,” he answered with a slight huff. “He wants me to make her angel-proof. Said she’s not useful like she is. What an idiot.”

Sam glanced at the papers, obviously doubting Dean’s words but accepting his wish not to talk about it, he shook his head. “Well you should have seen his car. It would’ve broken your heart.”

Dean didn’t reply, he felt heavy, tired.

“You sure you don’t want to rest a little bit? You look awful.”

He managed to show half a grin.

“No.” He shook his head. “I wanna get out of here and I want something to eat, I’m starving.”

On cue, his stomach started grumbling loud enough to be a thunderstorm.

His younger brother laughed.

“Oh man, you never change.”

It took Dean a long time to get out of bed. His body was heavy, clumsy, harder to move. Sam helped, slinging one of Dean’s arms over his shoulder, wrapping his own arm around his waist, to support him. Dean didn’t like it, but he was too weak to even stand without his brother, let alone walk.

And after all, it was Sam, he had seen him weak before. Slowly, they made their way to the kitchen.

“Dean!” Multiple voices called out for him.

“Hey every...uff!”

He stumbled back as Castiel flung himself against him, ripping him out of Sam’s arms.

“Okay… okay Cass.” It was the second time that day that he’d almost been suffocated by his family.

It took him a moment to convince his best friend to let go of him, while Cass kept staring at him like he had been lost for good.

But after the angel let go of him his mother was there, Jack was there, his family was there.

For hours they talked, Dean sitting in his chair, eating the best sandwich Mary had ever made, listening to them, smiling. Sam was sitting next to him, his mom on the other side, Cass was standing right behind him. Jack sat across the table, his curious, childlike eyes big while he talked about all the things he had learned about humanity during the last few months.

Dean was too tired to keep up, resorting to smiling and nodding until his body betrayed him completely, but he felt Cass’ strong hands catch him before he could fall, propping him up when he said he wanted to stay.

He noted the warm atmosphere. They were all laughing a lot, smiles came easy. Not once did they mention Michael, how he had escaped, how he was still the greatest threat to humanity. Not once did they talk about the angels and the collapsing heaven above them. Not once did they mention the man they had sent home to die.

Dean listened, too exhausted to be an actual part of the conversation, he took the time instead to watch his family, watch them joke and tease and share stories and food, watch them live.

He was home, he was happy.

At some point he felt a warm hand touching his cheek as Mary leveled her eyes at him, softly ordering him to go to bed. He did as he was told, his brother making sure of it.

Once he was settled, he opened the letter from his other self again.

His eyes were tired, but his mind was sharp enough.

The first few lines _were_ about his car, something anyone with that knowledge would share with someone they wanted to help, not a letter from a dead man walking to himself from another universe.

Silently, he read the instructions, the warning, and he read about the Michael this man had known, about what his job was, his true destiny as the Michael sword. The real reason God had created the Michael sword in the first place, the reason He had given His strongest archangel a unique weapon.

And then he read about Mary, about John, about Castiel. He read the life story of a man he had never met, a man who shared his face and at least some of his family. A man who had lost just as much as Dean himself, more, in some ways, and chosen a different path.

He read the last few lines. They were about Sammy, his little Sammy.

They told him to protect his brother at all cost, for Sam would do whatever it took to protect him. He told him that he wouldn’t be able to win without Sam, or rather that there would be nothing left to win if he were gone.

_You keep each other human._

He folded the paper and stared at the ceiling with a slight smile _._ What an idiot, like Dean didn’t already know.

“So what will you do?”

Cass closed the door behind him.

Slowly, Dean turned his head towards his friend who sat down on the chair next to him.

“I’m gonna sleep.”

The angel smiled softly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Dean grinned as well.

“I know, Cass. But don’t forget, I’m human, I need sleep.”

The angel smiled wider.

“Then let me help you fall asleep, human.”

Dean nodded, as tired as he was, he knew that natural sleep would come hard, be filled with nightmares, be interrupted too soon. Cass reached out two fingers and touched his forehead and Dean sank into the pillow, certain that he would sleep well at least for one night. He would be fine for this one night.

Yes, as long as his angel was by his side, as long as his family was by his side, as long as his brother was by his side then he could deal with the rest, he would be fine.

He would stay human.


End file.
